My dad went missing 7 years ago. Then they found him. In the stream near our house. He was already gone.
He was like Superman to me. And he loved music so much, he wanted me to become a violinist. I'd come home from violin lessons and play for him, and then at night I'd fall asleep using his arm as a pillow while he told me old stories.
That's all I have. Just those memories. I was so young that everything is blurry now, like someone smeared vaseline over the footage. Most of it is gone.
But the violin. The old stories. Those I remember clearly.
And the day he died. I remember that too, so vividly it hurts. Me and my older sister, crying in a taxi, going to the funeral hall in the rain.
Now I've forgotten how to play violin. I can't even remember what his voice sounded like anymore.
I just want to see him. Even just once. Even if it's only in a dream.
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Original post by storymarket on tistory.com/storymarket. Translated by k-ssul.
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