Today it’s my birthday. 22 Years ago on this day I turned 16th.
22 Years ago on this day my father died.
Every year on this day I wake up living the same scene: I see my mum crying, my sisters in shock, my little sister taken away by my aunt.
It could have happened a day later or before, but no, it happened just on my birthday.
A lot of people told me that was a “sign of the destiny” but I don’t believe in that, I don’t believe in those religious things, I just know that he’s gone, just on the most important day of my life.
He was for me like a hero, my inspiration on doing everything. The day before he promised me to let me take the driver license for the motorbike, I was dreaming to get one. He knew he was dying but he smiled at me and said yes, because he would never disappoint his family. He taught me how important is to love your family.
He looked always serious from outside but was a funny man in private, with his sons. He was strong, very respected among all our relatives and friends, everyone who had a problem or just need advices would look for him, he had always the right answer and suggestion for everyone.
I am not like him, but I wish I was. I don’t even look like my age, when people ask me how old I am they look at me surprised "Really?" ... I don’t even get close to be like him. The day after his death I promised myself I would do everything to make him proud of me.
I never celebrated my birthday again, Jesus, how can I? For years I wondered what can I do to survive this day, then year by year I slowly started to realise: I cannot change what happened, I have all the rights to do not celebrate my birthday but I cannot hide myself behind tears or rage, the only thing I can do is to do my best to keep my promise, make him proud of his son.
I listen to the same song all the day, and then the day ends, I go to sleep and another year is gone.
It's been 22 years, but I still miss You.