The Unsaid: An apology to my Father on what would have been his 70th birthday.

The last time I saw my father before he died was a missed opportunity.

On the day that marked my Father’s 70th birthday, I unexpectedly found myself at the edge of a chasm of loss, reaching across time to find a little peace amidst the haunting silence.

In the following narrative, I unravel the tender and turbulent threads of memory that bind me to my Father, whose absence has left a void spanning three decades.

As I journey back to the sparse yet significant encounters I shared with him, I meander through a range of emotions — regret, anger, longing, all held together by a fragile thread of enduring connection.

The memories may be vague, their edges blurred by time, yet the emotions they stir are poignant, at least for me.

I don’t remember exactly what was said or even the sound of his voice, but the emotions reverberate still, molding the individual I am today.

This piece is more an exploration than a recollection of the unsaid.

As you read through, you might find the narrative peels back layers of my personal history and exposes the conflicting human emotions forever bound to the ghosts of what could have been.