Dear Lili,
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.
Love always,
Your Dad ❤
