On the wind Summer’s leaving It found me grieving Living on my own thinking of you Thinking of you
In the sand By Rainbow River My love did shiver till the fire and I warmed her again Want you again And I need you all through the night
Ah hold back the Winter Indian Summer I’m not sure if I can take the snow In mid December I can’t help but wonder How will I ever last till the coldness goes
Baby I miss you all through the day
Ah hold back the Winter Indian Summer I’m not sure if I can take the snow In mid December I can’t help but wonder How will I ever last till the coldness goes
After the separation, I still believed that somehow the bond we had forged would remain strong, despite “the forces” that conspired against us. I so looked forward to the weekends we shared together, even though it broke my heart every time I had to drop you off and say good-bye. We were close, as a father and daughter should be, and I truly believed that I could watch you grow up and that I could continue to be a good dad to you. I was wrong in that dream, of course, and little by little, I watched you slip away from me. Our visits became less and less frequent, until eventually they ended altogether. Somebody asked me today what I would have done differently. What more could I have done, though, than I had? The odds were stacked against us. It does now seem like a cruel and foolish game we used to play indeed.
Sometimes I just don’t know what to say anymore. I don’t know the right words to bring us together again. Maybe there are none. But I’ll never give up on you. Someday, when you are a parent, you’ll understand how I feel.
These birthdays are always bittersweet for me. Memories of the happy times we spent together, and the sadness that we have been separated for so long through decisions beyond our powers.
From our last birthday together when you were six years old
From the moment you were born, I lost my heart to you.
I did my best to care for you. You were everything to me, my purpose in life.
You are now and will always be, forever in my heart.
Fare you well my honey Fare you well my only true one All the birds that were singing Have flown except you alone
Going to leave this broke-down palace On my hands and my knees I will roll, roll, roll Make myself a bed by the waterside In my time, in my time, I will roll, roll, roll
In a bed, in a bed By the waterside I will lay my head Listen to the river sing sweet songs To rock my soul
River gonna take me Sing me sweet and sleepy Sing me sweet and sleepy All the way back back home It’s a far gone lullaby Sung many years ago Mama, mama, many worlds I’ve come Since I first left home
Going home, going home By the waterside I will rest my bones Listen to the river sing sweet songs To rock my soul
Going to plant a weeping willow On the banks green edge it will grow, grow, grow Sing a lullaby beside the water Lovers come and go, the river roll, roll, roll
Fare you well, fare you well I love you more than words can tell Listen to the river sing sweet songs To rock my soul
After your mother and I split up, I used to see you on the weekends — until that ended for reasons you will someday understand. I remember dropping you off at Makuhari Station when the weekend was over and sitting on the platform seat with tears in my eyes waiting for the Sobu Line back home, wondering when, or rather if, I’d be able to see you again.
The very last time I saw you was in that very station in January 2005 when I was allowed to see your briefly to tell you that your grandmother had died. The very last image I have of you is you walking away with your mother and your other grandmother out of the station in this exact place.
I never did see you again after that except for a couple of pictures I received in 2010, some nine years ago now. I stayed far way from your home in Makuhari ever since, for reasons, again, you may come to understand one day. I will only say our separation was not my choice.
I would sometimes pass by Makuhari Station on the Narita Express on the way to the airport. The train travels at a very fast speed past the station, but I nevertheless always strained to look out the window on the remotest of chances that I might catch of glimpse of my only daughter. I never did, of course, but I repeated that ritual every time I passed by even so.
As letters and packages sent to you by your cousins came back “Return to Sender: Address Unknown”, I since learned by checking your old address on Google Street View that the house you used to live in doesn’t exist anymore, and that the area looks completely different. I recalled at that moment that your grandfather had told me that they were eventually going to have to move, that the area was going to be bought out by the government through eminent domain to build a new roadway. I don’t know when that happened, exactly, but it looks to have been done some time ago.
I used to think that at least I knew where you lived, and that I could contact you in case of an emergency or serious situation, as had indeed happened to me recently. But now I’m forced to admit that I know absolutely nothing about you — even your address. Nothing about you, my only child.
So I keep making these blog posts hoping that one day you will find me if you need me, as I no longer can find you through conventional means.
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