Happy Birthday, Beloved

I have never come here because I was sure I wouldn't find you, but now that I have arrived this silent autumn's garden makes me feel you may be around I don't hear your steps like a lost tired ghost or see your shining transparence or listen to a whispered voice. No, I can't feel hot or cold or any creeping sensation. It is just that when I read your name in this clean and clear marble and saw your black and white picture where you appear so young, so healthy, (I had chosen it myself) when this silence invaded my soul and the image of this garden brought me the memories of your happy and strong steps through the grass of our house, and these memories came so alive I knew you were at my side Well, what to do? I sit in this nearby grave and lay down on your lap waiting for the old peace to come. Dad, is it true that you have talked to my brother and that you have helped him? Is it true that he has asked and that you have answered? I was the one who used to believe in such unbelievable things, remember? And yet I hadn't come here before today for I was sure I wouldn't find you. As you can see dad, I changed my mind. I changed my faith and so did my way two seconds after your leaving. I was supposed to be the strongest I am ashamed of my weakness Would you forgive me, my father? Could you? I felt lost, dear I felt angry, and I felt alone I hated God, I hated to be alive. Now that I have come and that you are here . . . I can see my wasted life Not anymore, my love Not anymore, heavenly God Eat this marshmallow pie I brought and let's enjoy your birthday. Thank you for bringing me back to the good old times and o.k., Mr. Silly for next year, strawberry pie. Patrícia Evans