7/13/09
7:35 p.m.
H,
I saw my dad.
He looked worse. Sick. Graying. And it took everything in me not to bolt out of that courtroom and never look back.
Who knew that someone so evil could make me feel so sorry for them?
I remember the day when he was convicted the first time.
You were there, of course. You were always there for me.
I doubt that words will ever be able to express what I felt when the gavel hit the sound block, but I can try.
I was relieved. Who wouldn't be? But I also felt sorrow.
Sorrow because, even if he did something so horrible, he's still my father. Nothing can change that.
The first person waiting for me afterwards was you. Arms open, ready with a patience and warmth that you've never ceased to have an abundance of.
You weren't there this time.
My dad is still in prison. But this retrial may result in his sentence being reduced. He may have the chance to roam the world freely in the not-so-distant future. Too soon for my liking.
And there's nothing I can do about any of it.
As I walked through those doors that separated my living nightmare from the outside world, I wished that I would see you standing there again.
Waiting. Just waiting for me.
I don't want to make you feel guilty, because you have nothing to be guilty for. You don't have to wait for me anymore. And I don't have the right, nor the heart, to make you.
I miss you, Holden.
That's it. That's all. That's why I write these letters that will likely never be sent to you. These love notes that you'll never read.
I just miss you.
But, you see, missing you is a luxury that I shouldn't have. I have a father who took an innocent life, and that will never go away. Now that his sentence might be changed, I need to continue fighting to keep him behind bars.
And even though I shouldn't, despite my every good wish I have for you, a small part of my soul hopes that you miss me too. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so alone.
Selfish of me, I know. I guess I haven't learned a thing, have I?
-L
