The Guilt of Time
I used to sit up at night and ask my mother, ‘When is Daddy coming home?’ She would always reply with the same answer, ‘Soon, but you’ll be sleeping when he does.’ I knew my father never lived with my mum and I but I would see him every other weekend. This was the case throughout the years until one weekend everything changed.
I was told I wasn’t going because he was busy.
This happened for weeks on end until I got to the point where I gave up hope on ever going to see him. By the time I was around fifteen or sixteen years old, I became for too obsessed with the reasons why he left. I spent my time tying myself up in knots. Blaming myself. Steeped in guilt over his absence. I became far too familiar with the salt of my tears and wondering if I would ever get over the thought of my father as a stranger.
Now I am in my late twenties and I have finally found the happiness I have been seeking. I have a wonderful husband who loves his children dearly and fills their days with love and warmth. Where my own youth was left with only holes and emptiness.
I was walking down a street in Edinburgh, the warm summer breeze blowing my hair from my shoulders and engulfing my entire body with its freshness. The wind ventilating my mind. I saw him. With a shopping bag gripped firmly in his frail left hand and his right arm useless by his side. I recognised that old and tired face. As we grew closer my mind was consumed by thoughts of uncertainty. What should I do? What should I say? What should I think? A barrage of unanswerable questions.
Our eyes met for a second – just for a split second. Nothing. I felt nothing. All that had built up inside me over the years had vanished.
I continued to walk down that Edinburgh street with my head held high. We passed by each other. Like the strangers we are.
E. Ormiston
In this piece I wanted to explore the idea of guilt. Specifically a guilt that shouldn’t be felt but is. I think I’d link this piece with ‘A Friend of My Youth’ as in both pieces the narrator is dealing with guilt. I found writing this piece interesting because I invested some of my personal experience into it. The relationship between families is something that was in both the Hogg and the Munro piece and wanted to continue that theme.
