‘Dear Dad’ by Daisy Windsor

Last time I saw you, I must’ve been just ten years old, rocking that killer bob. This was pre growth spurt, so I was probably 8 inches shorter, with my classic Nyan Cat shirt, purple leggings and Hello Kitty crocs.

Now, that was a banging outfit.

I had spent what felt like years perfectly crafting coffee cupcakes. They were haphazardly scrawled with black and white icing and dolloped with chocolate buttons.

Time went by slower then.

The drive was long and uneventful. It was two boring hours and we had arrived. The place I hated. It always looked too clean and smelt too clinical.

The name was odd too. I felt like I was saying a bad word. A swear word.

Hospice.

The windows were vast, as far as I could see, but no amount of natural light could smother the lingering feelings

of love
and loss.
When I was told, the world stopped.

Time was already slow, but it came to a halt.

My heart, the only pounding, pushing me forward into the future.

Now I reflect.

The last time I saw you,
you couldn’t talk
or walk
or even remember me,
but I remembered you.

Double-decker bus rides and coffee fumes, playing guitar and eating tiramisus.

I will never forget you.

My name is a reflection of your memory.

My final goodbye,
Love Daisy.