My dad is dead. Six years dead in September. Like any other teenager who lost a parent young, I think about him a lot. My childhood memories are fuzzy. I don’t remember how my dad acted. I have specific memories of him but It’s frustrating not knowing if I’m altering them or making them up to comfort myself. I so desperately want to remember him entirely, and there has always been an anger within me knowing i will never be able to have a conversation with him now that I’m older. I’m fourteen. When I tell you I’m mature for my age, I mean it. I’m not being arrogant, I have just always felt and acted older than I am. Or I have since he died. I’m not sure.

My mum always told me I should write, and write now while I’m so young. Write about my dad, is what she’d say. I would always shake her off and tell her I couldn’t, and I did believe I couldn’t - I didn’t know how to describe the strange feeling it gave me when he died. Really, I wanted nothing more than to write, about everything. I believed a time would come where I would be able to put my emotions into words. I feel able to start writing about it now. Maybe not about me and my emotions, but about my dad. I miss him so bad, but I don’t even know who I’m mourning. Like I said, I have memories of him and a perception of him, but I never got to pick up on his traits or ask him about his childhood. I feel as if I barely knew my mum until these last two years.

I cling onto the personal things I do know about my dad - his favourite songs and his favourite movies.

When I say endgame destroyed me I dont mean it in an “Aw I was so sad Iron Man died!” way, I mean it in an “It broke my heart knowing he never got to see the ending of the avengers” way. He didn’t get to watch the incredible end battle, or see captain america live the life he was deprived of. I watched it with my older brother and all I could think about was how he wasn’t here to watch it with us, how he never saw how it all ended. There was something about watching endgame that brought up a whole lot of hurt inside of me and I blamed my tears on tony starks death.

There are certain songs that bring back certain memories.

‘Daughter’ by Loudon Wainwright III.

My dad and I were on the couch in the house I grew up in. He sang me that and I downloaded it on my iPod.

I have another memory of us on that same couch, he was eating bruschetta. My older brother had a periodic table poster in his bedroom, so he would give me elements symbols and make me run up the stairs and find the element. It was to keep me occupied long enough for him to watch the tv in peace, but lucky for him I loved it.

Some of his music I found after he died. He has a playlist on youtube called ‘Jims favs’. I hate that some of those songs are now my favourite songs in the whole world and he’ll never know that. He never got to be the person to show me those songs.

‘Jolene’ by Ray Lamontagne, ‘Valley of the Low Sun’ by Jakob Dylan.

I just like to hang onto those pieces of him he left with me.

I like to imagine him and I discussing music and movies. I like to imagine him sitting at the dinner table with  my brothers, my mum and I. I want to hear his opinions and I want him to tell me he’s proud of me.

My mum told me, about two nights ago as I’m writing this, that once my dad had returned home with a doll in his arms saying that I didn’t own enough girly things. That made me smile. It also made me very upset. What could’ve been is constantly running through my head and as I’m growing up and making decisions for my future and getting ready to sit exams, I can feel myself spinning out of control. Spiralling. All I want is my father that I no longer know to tell me everything will be alright. For him to have taught me everything I know, for him to catch me every time I fall.

I told myself this wouldn’t interfere with my life, but how can I just move on? I need to know because at the moment he is permanently stuck in my head.

People move on, thats how it goes. He would move on. But after all these years I just cant find it in me to be content with his absence in my life.

Maybe its because I’m now in my teenage years. Its sort of hit me how much he has missed of my life. I’m not sure I’m moving on any time soon so if you were looking for an inspirational personal essay about how I found it within me to forget my dad and soldier on in life, keep looking.

I have no advice, no heartfelt message.

All I have to offer is my compassion to those in the same position I am, and hopefully this helped put some of your feelings into words.