27/05/2005
In order to see this content you need to have both enabled and installed. Visit for full instructions
"I remember how you taught me how to hold a pen."
Transcript
"It's difficult for me to chose how to compose this letter, what tone will be most appropriate. I'm neither bitter nor idealistic but I feel there are many unanswered questions. How long ago is it since I saw you? I think I was around the age of ten, perhaps I was younger. What caused our close bond to end so abruptly?
I presume you're still living in the same place. Are you remarried? Are you in good heath? I often wonder if you think about me and, what I'm doing. I have many full memories of the time we spent together and feel sad that you have missed out on a large chunk of my life. Is this your choice?
There are many things I remember about you, your overwhelming height, your glasses, the smell of your aftershave, teaching me to swim, the sound of racing cars at Silverstone when I played in the garden.
I remember how you taught me to hold a pen in the correct manner and got particularly frustrated as I held it so close to the nib. I recall the letters we wrote one another, how you always wrote in capitals. But how do I address this letter? Do I call you Dad?
I remember the birthdays and Christmases where I felt your absence. But as each one passes, as I get older, I worry in time we will forget one another. I don't remember your voice, the last time I saw you or the last words we spoke. You're my Dad, I'm your daughter. This isn't how it's meant to be."