Reel-to-Reel with Mr Dad

We knew each other briefly when I was little. No memory souvenirs to cherish. I’ve never missed you. I only heard of you. You took away your open reel tape recorder with all the tapes. There was no music left for us. You were unhappy, you did not belong, you played the guitar. Freezing to death every Christmas Eve, sitting at the tram stop as a kid, refusing to celebrate. I have managed to trace your sister, wrote a letter recently, me, daughter, searching, hoping, forty years ago… She packed a bitter punch and put my address on it. Do not call me Mrs, I am your Aunt! Aunt Grudge, Aunt Sorrow. The police never found your body. Nobody saw anything. Your meszuge ancestors converted to catholicism condemning you, betraying your identity, so you took your own life in revenge, honour killing, violins! They chose life! Your granddaughter plays the guitar. She believes in Fluffy Unicorns Dancing on Rainbows. Hey, Mr Dad,

You Are Forgiven