My partner and i were talking last night, and somewhere between whatever we were discussing and the usual conversations that somehow become much deeper than intended, she said something that has been haunting me ever since. “You’re a good father.” Strange words to say to someone like me, really. i didnt know whether to laugh, argue, or simply stare at the words until they stopped making sense. And, naturally, i chose the most reasonable option. i kept thinking about them for hours. even now, while im at work, they’re still sitting somewhere in the back of my head. perhaps she doesnt know me well enough to say that. perhaps she only said it because she felt sorry for me. perhaps there was some hidden meaning behind it that i havent yet overanalysed into oblivion. because if im being honest. i have never seen myself as a good father. shadow, my dear kitten, died and i didnt even know he was sick. that still sits somewhere unpleasantly deep in me. i was supposed to take care of him, and somehow i failed to notice that he needed me. another one of my cats died. My parrot, after seven years, flew away and i never found him. Then there was the baby i had cared for since she was a newborn, the one i took care of ever since i was a teenager and tried to be there for, until she was taken away from me. Ive written about what happened before, so i wont drag the entire corpse of the story back onto the page again. All these things have somehow gathered together into the same conclusion in my mind, that i am bad at taking care of the things i love. and perhaps that is the part that frightened me most about her words. i dont want to be like my father. i cut that man out of my life for a good reason, and i have no interest in carrying even a trace of him with me. he can remain exactly where he belongs. Nowhere near me. i refuse to let someone i have so little regard for have any influence over the kind of father i become. i don't want every mistake i've made to prove that i was always destined to be that kind of person. so when she called me a good father, i probably didnt show her how much it meant. i might have acted like it was nothing, because admitting that a few simple words managed to get underneath my skin would be pathetic. i dont want to spend my life believing that everything i touch eventually becomes another thing i fail. so when she said, “You’re a good father,” it didnt magically make any of that disappear, it didnt bring my cats back, or my parrot, or the girl or anything i cared deeply for and was careless in taking care of . it certainly didnt erase the mistakes i still blame myself for, but it stayed with me. perhaps she meant it, maybe she did or maybe she didnt know enough about me to understand why those words were difficult to believe. or she just simply wanted to make me feel better, with no meaning behind it. i dont know. i have of course, considered every possibility because my brain refuses to let a kind sentence remain a kind sentence. but even if i still struggle to believe it. i think some part of me wanted to hear it. maybe more than i ever realized.

There are still nights when i think about everything i could have done differently as though the past might eventually grow tired of reminding me that i cannot change it, and maybe then ill understand. probably not.

Sincerely, Still questioning.