The Infant’s Cradle.

There was a time when he walked in, I would greet him like he was superman, my face would light up like a sparkling firework on New Year’s night. You could say he came around just as often as those fireworks did, but those were times of simpler emotions.

30 years later, and I feel nothing remotely close as I stare into this infant’s cradle.
He toyed with life, never taking his surroundings seriously, whereas my own never seemed complete.
I witnessed every other child sustain their sand castles at the playground, while mine never seemed capable of remaining intact.
I wonder whether he was able to fight off his demons and trespass into the believer’s bliss.

When you are a child, the world consists of a simple black and white exterior. You don’t spend much time filling in the blanks, and yet with a sponge-like mind, we absorb so much.
I scarcely laid eyes on him, but upon my 18th birthday, he disappeared completely. I guess infants are unpredictable that way.
Yet, much like a patriot who blindly rises in their country’s defence, there were those who stood firmly in defending his actions.
The fools!…

At that time, life around begun gaining a little more colour, but the beauty wore off as the picture became clearer.
Realising he wasn’t superman, I embarked on a quest to seek closure — A quest that would endure for another two years. Everybody needs something to believe in. And so, simplicity was replaced with the mind’s wandering sensations.
Surely he had a good excuse, right?! Why else would you behave that way?!
Yet, as it all became clearer so too did the fact that I was chasing a ghost who did not want to caught.
Some emotions were difficult to grasp — My own father wants nothing to do with me, and yet I am told I behave just like him at his age. He too formed relations with beautiful women, and got rid of them just as quickly.
I wonder though, whether the fireworks that lit up his childhood ever stopped lighting his way through life, like mine have.

… At least, I had found him!
The comfort I need was there for the taking.
He could stand trial for all his mischief as I pour forth my heart’s contents.
Finally, the chance to hear him apologise, and explain himself.
30 years ago, he lit up my face, but at that precise moment, any firework about to burst, merely imploded inside of me as he casually brushed past me.
All of my life, all I had wanted was an apology… How could he be so casual about my feelings?!
Why would he refuse to look back at me, his only son…

The contrast could not have been bigger at that moment, but up to that point, I was told not only that I behaved like him but that I looked like him.
Am I destined to become just like him? Incapable of assuming my own mistakes and instead walk away?
So many questions poured in at that time . Too many to answer.

I thought I’d have the next 10 years to tell him.
Call him out for all the poison he spread in my life.
Maybe go from there and try to rebuild my unsustainable sand castle, but instead here I am, watching as they close the coffin’s lid for the last time.
In the end, I wonder whether my disappointment lies with him, or the fact my one excuse for life is about to be buried.