December

December is here.

This Christmas time Allegro commercial made me cry real tears. The tears of a huge loss and sadness. Cast: an elderly gentelman whose son lives abroad and who one day embarks on a difficult journey of learning a foreign language to be able to communicate with his grand-daughter who speaks English. For three minutes the audience watches the gentelman posting notes around the house or reciting 'to be' while riding the tram. In a bath he threatens a rubber duck with a profane line from a movie and in a public transport he accidentally confesses love to another passenger.

And then the day comes: he packs his bags and flies to meet his family.

There he is, on the doorsteps. There she is too, a little girls. He gets on his knees and introduces himself to her in English: 'Hi, I'm your grandpa'.

I'm sobbing by then.

I see Helena and my dad that will never happen.

I see an elderly man who made an effort - that will never happen for us.

I see everything we've lost as a family in recent years and much beyond that.

I put my head on my desk and I keep sobbing, my tears can't stop falling.

How I miss him!

How I've lost him!

How he's lot us!!!

I don't know how he is. Whenever I call - there is no answer and even when he answers he pretends that all is good. I've stopped investigating. I know he drinks... at this point it doesn't really matter any more how long for: a week, a month, three moths... He is digging his own grave to which he will take a part of each of us. I send him a Christmas card and wished him a Maerry Xmas but I know it's not going to be a happy time for him - so sick and so gone... far away in the ocean of alcohol. I wish he knew how much I love him and ho scared I am that I will never see him again. I wish he knew how scared I am to see him at the same time. I wish he was able to understand how it all hurts all of us and how the only thing we ever wanted from him was to be sober.

December is here.

Dad

It's your birthday tomorrow and I've been trying to reach you almost for a week now. When you called me, I was with Helena. I didn't hear... And now you're not answering. 

And I'm scared. 

I know you are alone. No, you are not alone. You are with your best friend: a bottle.

Hello?! Are you there? The voice mail again. My heart skips the beat when I hear your voice. I'm fully aware that it might be the last time I hear it. Or the only time that I hear it. 

I would like to talk to you. But... but what will I tell you? Will I tell you that I'm worried? Will I tell you that it makes me sick to think how you are wasting you life? What are we going to talk about? 

Hello?! Can you hear me? No, you cannot. You never had. I've asked you so many times! I begged you. We all did, You can't hear me from here. You wouldn't hear me even if I were in the same room screaming on top of my lungs that I love you. Even if I gave up my own life, it wouldn't change anything. One person already have. 

You want to die. I know that. You are slowly killing yourself. You don't want to live any more. You gave up. And what is the legacy you are leaving behind? What is that I will remember?! What are the lessons?! Have you ever thought about it?! 

On Friday I'm flying to Europe.  I will not come to see you. I wish I could but I won't. I promised myself that I will not bring Helena to this energy. I told you about it many times. I don't want to be in this energy, though I do feel guilty about it. I'm protecting myself and I feel guilty. You are my father, after all. I should! But I won't. I might never see you again. But it's your choice. You chose to drink, you chose to be like this. I know you are lonely. I am as well. Trust me. I feel your pain. You'd tell me that I'm still young and have things to look forward to and that's why I can't understand what you are going through. Believe me, I do. Each day I struggle as well with demons. Each day, I'm fighting for myself and now also for Helena. Each day I have to make a choice. And sometimes I slip. And I do feel abandoned by my own father. By the man who was supposed to be my anchor, my safe place, my rock. There is nothing. A huge void, darkness and emptiness... there is only a memory of a man who is no more. I can't live all my life off this memory. 

I feel sorry for you, for myself and for all of us that we have to live through in this madness. I feel sorry for wasted lives that cannot be returned. I feel sorry and sad. 

I will try to call you again tomorrow and the day after, and then the day after that. 

Please, answer.