Don’t go. I’m not finished yet.

What was I saying? Or was I? I've always prayed we'd have those precious moments at the end, on top of which the right words would float flawlessly, clearing the ocean that lies between us. We did get those moments, many fractions of time that were carefully orchestrated for us and condensed into two long months to which I tried to shove twenty years.

We were given all the words and all the time we could wish for. Well, point made, note taken - there are no words and there is no time that can fill the space between you and me. There is only an ocean of elusive laws, and I can't reach. I can't, daddy, I can't. I tried. I promise I did.

And love is a strange thing. It can never be damaged. Did you know this?

Remember that day I held you close and whispered in your ear that everything was going to be alright, as you would to little boy who is afraid of the dark? I wanted to make it all go away, like you skillfully did when I was afraid of witches, when I was afraid of Hitler, when I was afraid of blood tests (still am) and grownups (still am) and speaking with grownups (still am).

But you didn't believe me. I'm sorry I lied.
Another color stain on the wall. Better than leaving it blank.

Yesterday I turned pages for a pianist, daddy. I thought of you. That this would be a typical thing I'd tell you about over the phone, before mom releases us from the awkward exchange. I would tell you about Brahms, about Bloch, about the warm sound of the violin that reminded me of your warm sound, and you would hum the whole thing and conduct it to yourself, lightly, playfully. Then I'd say I wish we could play the Spring Sonata together again, and you'd nod, and we'd enjoy our mutual intention projecting into a future that would forever stay there, hung, in the future.

Last time we said goodbye at the airport, I dared digging deep into your eyes, and I recognized you there, and you knew. The background noise slowly gave in as if to accommodate the fine gesture, the rare encounter. I then decided this would be our moment, our Goodbye, you and I in the vastness of the ocean that is us.