Sometimes I think that it takes me longer to finish the last chapter of a story than the rest of the entire piece. The characters have been with me for the duration; their dreams, desires and emotions. I have laughed with them, cried with them—been intimate with them. It is difficult to say goodbye.
I often wonder what will happen when I have left them on their own, but in the warped imagination of my writer’s mind they live on. They have lives like you and I do. Good days and bad. They get bored, they fight, they make-up, but they always love each other. I don’t often revisit them, once a story is finished it is finished, but the memory of their time still resides in a corner of my heart. I never really have to miss them because they are always there.
As I packed the last of my father’s belongings, I found a scrapbook that was unfamiliar. In it was every card, letter and picture I sent to him. Masculine designs, dark colors with boats and cars and leaves; it was the sentiments tucked within that spoke of a daughter’s feelings for the first man she ever loved. Most of them said how much she would always need him and now, when I need him most of all, I finally realize the true depth of my loss. Yes, he will always be tucked away in a corner of my heart, always there, but unlike my characters, I will miss him every day. As I reached the end of the album, I found the long auburn pony tail from my first real haircut. I knew then, that he had never completely let go of the little girl I once was, and I would never let go of the wonderful father he will always be.
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