I Believe In Heaven
When I was 4 years old my real mother died. I don't remember anything about her. Really nothing about her.
Just later my father and me were in the garden and 'sent' her per imagination, clothes and food that she has enough in heaven.
Another thing I did was to write her letters. I lived with my sister and father in a village. There was a man who breed pigeons. There were so many of them really..
However, my father told me that if I write a letter and put the letter under a stone outside that a pigeon will take the letter, will fly to heaven and will give the letter to my mother.
In the letter i drew often blue dresses; I remember. I loved that time the color blue.
I really believed so much in this. This story comforted me.
Later I found the letters where I drew clothes etc in a drawer and I was soooo shocked that my mother didn't have the letters above us. I asked my father but he didn't know what to say.
Deep inside I think that I loved my real mom. And that I often don't remember anything about her because it would hurt me too much.
I loved that my father tried the best in such a hard time. He lost his love, his wife and then had to take care of my sister and me.
My father told me that my sister never really spoke about this. She played sometimes with him chess. I am sure it was harder for her than for me. She was 9 years old. Way older and then more matured for her age.
I am thankful that my dad was that time such an awesome father.
Just later my father and me were in the garden and 'sent' her per imagination, clothes and food that she has enough in heaven.
Another thing I did was to write her letters. I lived with my sister and father in a village. There was a man who breed pigeons. There were so many of them really..
However, my father told me that if I write a letter and put the letter under a stone outside that a pigeon will take the letter, will fly to heaven and will give the letter to my mother.
In the letter i drew often blue dresses; I remember. I loved that time the color blue.
I really believed so much in this. This story comforted me.
Later I found the letters where I drew clothes etc in a drawer and I was soooo shocked that my mother didn't have the letters above us. I asked my father but he didn't know what to say.
Deep inside I think that I loved my real mom. And that I often don't remember anything about her because it would hurt me too much.
I loved that my father tried the best in such a hard time. He lost his love, his wife and then had to take care of my sister and me.
My father told me that my sister never really spoke about this. She played sometimes with him chess. I am sure it was harder for her than for me. She was 9 years old. Way older and then more matured for her age.
I am thankful that my dad was that time such an awesome father.
22-25, F
