EPTSometimes I feel that people always take silence in a negative way. I still remember back in the youthful high school days where “Han-Solo” was known to others as a fucking emo kid who couldn’t even string two words together properly. “He is on mute” they said. Although some insults did leak through, I never took them seriously. They didn’t know what solitude was, or why I chose to be that way.
I used to tell that to myself all the time. Even now.
Father never talked about his past with me, ever. Neither had he asked me about my emotional well-being until I got into university. His initial inquiries bear no fruits, because whenever the topic arose, I surrendered to my habit of not saying anything at all.
That night, that car ride, with the highway lights glimmering on and on against the car window, we talked about a lot of things. The highway was empty; it felt like the road just kept going and going, a never-ending stretch, and no matter how long we walk or run, we’ll never see the end.
The end. What is the end? Without the road signs serving as guides, all we know is to keep driving forward. Where are we headed? We wouldn’t even know.
All these years have passed, and I’m still on this same goddamn road. I don’t know where I’m going, all I know is that I have to keep going.
I wish I have signs to guide me.
I talked about “her” for the very first time. And although he seemingly did not reply often, I knew dad was listening closely. I spilled everything; about how I met her, her favorite songs, her love for ballad, her habits, her smiles, her dream of becoming an architect. I got teary, but I didn’t really cry. Because I felt like all these years of solitude had built me up to be a strong man.
And he was just sitting there, driving. I looked over, and I could notice a teary glitter of light. Silence fell, and it was so beautiful. Although we exchanged no words for some time, I could see that he is relating to his “her” many many years ago.
Distance, the dying of a feeling called love, and neglecting the person you love so much.
He could see himself in his son. And even when he is married and loves his wife so dearly, he still remembers “her”, because she reminded him of a time when love was pure.
At the end of the night, I watched the white car disappear into the night; I waved, and told him to text me when he arrives home safely.
I couldn’t fall asleep that night. Right before I got off the car, he said something.
Something that has been ringing in my head for almost three years:
“Dad. I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love again.”
“You still love her. Because she showed you the pain of losing someone who meant the world to you.”
He just smiled and said goodbye.
He still loves her too.
