I can't remember my dad's words
I don't know what my dad's last words to me were, and it fucking sucks.
Because I just wish I knew what the exact words were. I faintly remember that they were some bullshit small talk. We haven't been speaking properly for a few years back then, since I went visiting him about two years before.
I promised myself that I would try to keep contact, but it was just so unnatural to call him and tell about what I was going through. I knew he wasn't much interested, being in his late thirties he had a lot going on for him, and I knew he had just moved to a new place, which meant he was still getting to know the people there, and it was such a beautiful city that I'm sure he was going nuts by visiting the historical sites and learning their culture.
And I had the shittiest news: Hey, I got into college. No, I'm not sure why I picked this specific major. Yeah, I did ok on that test. Hey, I got a part time job.
Back then I always felt, talking to him, that my stories didn't have a reason behind them. I used to feel that when talking to other people too, but it was magnified to such a point when I told him stuff that I just straight up skipped most of the details, since they didn't felt like they would amount to anything. I did what I did. It was kind of boring, I felt some stuff along the way, but it didn't matter.
Meanwhile his stories were fantastic. He went to this old cathedral were monks lived and brewed beer. He took a photograph on this plaza where some president did a speech. He took a plane somewhere.
Dad, I couldn't compete with that. Still, I wanted to be friends, so I just put on my "I'm a lame-o" hat and tried to soldier through it: I decided not to care how lacking we were on stuff to talk about, I was gonna call him twice a year.
But that was on the first year since we last saw each other. And I forgot to call you on your birthday so we only spoke when I rang you up on new years eve.
And you were kind of shit faced and I couldn't really listen to you since there were so many people talking. Sounded like a fun party.
So yeah our conversation kind of died, I shied out of telling you I love you, and you just kind of hanged up. Like you were super eager to go.
That specific new year was kind of shitty for me, so I got sour.
And when I wasn't sour anymore, you were fucking dead already.
Kinda miss you dad, wish I remembered what you told me that day so I could make a big deal out of it. Hope you've got some good stories, wherever you are.