Crash Into My Arms

I spent hours at that piano in front of the window; playing until my fingers cramped up and clicked each time I moved them. Gerard watched me from his bed with a faint smile on his face. For all the pain he must have been in, he seemed content. But the sun had eventually begun to go down and I had to return home.

The house was dark when I got back to Terry’s. I carefully felt my way through the darkness to the guestroom; where I had moved into after Max and I had our fall out. I took off my trench coat and threw it to the end of my bed.

As I kicked off my shoes, I heard one of them hit something. I felt around for the lamp on the bedside table, and tapped it twice to brighten it. There, just by the wardrobe, was my father’s suitcase. There was no mistaking the brown, faux leather, silver clasps and mahogany handle; it was Dad’s.

Then something else caught my eye; a familiar shaped black bag leaning against the wardrobe. My guitar; something was pinned to it; a small yellow, square piece of paper, the kind you got from sticky note pads. I pulled it off the neck of my guitar and read it;

Miseria, I was an ass to you the other night,
thought I’d make it up to you.
I went around your mother’s house the other day
and took it upon myself to grab your guitar.
However, when I found it,
I came across this old suitcase too.
Forgive me for snooping,
but I had a look through and
figured you might want it.
So I brought them both back here for you.

- Max

A small smile found its way across my lips. I closed the door and took my guitar out of its carry bag. I sat down in front of the suitcase and opened it once more, instantly grabbing my father’s tie and putting it around my neck. I took one of the guitar picks from the small plastic case and set the sheet music to my father’s song carefully inside the lid of the suitcase, which was propped up against the wardrobe, creating a makeshift music stand.

It was easier to pick out the chords and work out the rhythm than it had been last time. With ease, I began to sing the lyrics that Dad had written along the bottom of each line of notes, in perfect harmony with the melody of the guitar;

“She’s the spitting image of me, she has my eyes, she has my hair, it’s going to take me awhile to believe, that her mother and I created her, she is just so perfect, better than I imagined, my little baby girl…

Daddy's little girl, you're so beautiful, daddy's little girl, you have so much potential, so keep your head held high, and strive for your dreams, and know you'll always be my little princess …

She’s grown up so beautifully, she’s shown me she can sing, her face lights up as I teach her to play guitar, and every afternoon at the piano with me, as I think of all the possibilities of what she could be…

Daddy's little girl, you're so beautiful, daddy's little girl, you have so much potential, so keep your head held high, and strive for your dreams, and know you'll always be my little princess…

Doc gave me the bad news today, I won’t be able to be there for my baby, when she grows up, I’ll be long, long gone, but I hope that she will play this song, and I can watch her from above…

Daddy's little girl, you're so beautiful, daddy's little girl, you have so much potential, so keep your head held high, and strive for your dreams, and know you'll always be my little princess…

Daddy's little girl, you're so beautiful, daddy's little girl, you have so much potential, so keep your head held high, and strive for your dreams, and know you'll always be my little princess…”

A breathy laugh, mixed with a sigh escaped me as I strummed the last few bars, bringing the song to an end. I did it; I’d learned my father’s song. As I carefully packed everything up, I found another piece of paper bundled with the sheet music of Dad’s song. It was a letter, written in his handwriting. It was written… to me…

To my beautiful Daughter,

Daddy’s not well, honey. If you can make me one promise in this life, please, don’t ever take up smoking. Daddy made that silly mistake when he was younger, and it’s made me very, very ill. Smoking has given me Emphysema, all the poison from the cigarettes has rotted Daddy’s lungs and in turn, has put me at risk of Heart Failure. But don’t cry, my little angel. Even if I pass away, I will ALWAYS be here for you. I’m leaving this song behind as a parting gift; learn it sweetie. Learn it, and play it at Daddy’s funeral, it would make me so proud.

I want you to know that from the moment you were born, it was my dream that you would grow up to become a musician. It’s in your blood, from your great grandfather, to your grandfather, to me, and now, you. Your mother discourages you, but you, my angel, have a beautiful singing voice. Don’t get intimidated by all those famous singers you see on TV or hear on the radio. They don’t have talent, the majority of them are auto-tuned, and they all sound the same. But you, sweetie, you are unique; you have a voice that has not been heard since Joan Jett was a big, big star. You keep following that idol of yours, what’s her name? Avril Lavigne? You WILL be like her one day, don’t give up.

When Daddy passes, don’t mourn, don’t cry, don’t stop living. Keep going, keep smiling, and keep striving for your dreams. One day, someone else is going to fill the hole in your heart that will undoubtfully be left by my departure from this world. When they come along; open your heart. Let them be your guiding light.

For you must remember, that happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light…

Hang in there, little angel,
Daddy loves you xxx

A lone tear rolled down my cheek as I finished reading the letter. I sniffled and wiped it away. Dad had left this song as a parting gift, and I had never found it until now because Mama hid it from me. I’d never gotten to play it at his funeral. That would have broken his heart. How could Mama be so cruel?

I packed everything away and changed into my pyjamas. I turned out the light and sat on my bed in the darkness. The curtains were drawn back and I moved closer to the window to gaze out at the stars and moon.

“Daddy, I know you’re up there watching me. Sometime soon, I’ll visit your grave and play you your song. You’d like that.” I bit my lip, smiling even despite more tears slowly rolling down my cheeks. “I just know you would.”