Dear Dad,

Can I still call you Dad? It feels a little bit strange to say it, but it would feel even weirder to call you Malcolm. So Dad it is. Mum says you’ll always be my dad and that’s all that matters. We’re linked by blood, Mum says. Nothing can change this fact. I can’t get rid of my blood, unless I get a visit from a vampire. Not even death, which you know more about than me, can stop us being father and son. Mum is right. She usually is, but I don’t tell her.

I also know you have another son called Jeremy. Mum told me that he is Busty Babs’s son from a previous marriage. I’m not jealous that he was your son too. I envied him once. But now I realize that I was lucky because I had you for seven years. He only got you for four and I think that’s sad.

I still have the teddy bear you bought me when we got separated. Mum had to restuff him a few years ago because I’d squeezed him so hard his tummy exploded. His paws are blotchy where my tears have dripped onto them. This is all I’ve got left of you. I will treasure him. I just wanted to let you know this because it is important.

Another thing that is important to me is trying to understand what went wrong. I have a question and I’m just going to fire it out there into the universe in the hope that you can hear me. Did you love me right up to the end? Mum says you did. I want to believe her but I can’t be certain. How will I ever be certain?

For now, I’ve decided to believe that you wrote me a birthday card every year of my life but you couldn’t post them because you felt guilty. Somewhere in the world there is a small pile of birthday cards with my name on them. Maybe in, like, fifty years, someone will find them and post them and a whole load of envelopes will drop onto my mat. Did you know that happens sometimes? I’ve read about postcards turning up at their destination fifty years after they were written. And even if I’m ancient and bald, they’ll mean the world to me.

I feel sad so I’ve tried to turn this tear splash into a monster. I think it’s quite a good drawing. I got a gold star in art recently.

Dad, I don’t think you’re a bad person. You can’t be. Saying you’re bad would be like saying I’m bad too. I’m part of you, after all. I’m going to make a list now, because it’s not easy writing on ricepaper and my wrist hurts. I wish I had typed this but then that wouldn’t have worked. Ignore me. Here is the list:

THE BIG LIST OF SAD THINGS

You didn’t tell me you were dying. I wish you had. I wanted to say goodbye. This is the thing that hurts the most. When I pretend to die, I call everyone into the bedroom and do that raspy voice thing and then I take my opportunity to tell them how much I like or dislike them according to how much they’ve annoyed me at my chosen time of death.

Saying you love someone is very important. You should have told me, at least once. I’m always going to tell everyone I love them, except Grace. She knows I like her anyway because I take care of her. I told her about the time, months ago, when I saw Stan in the alleyway at The Frying Squad with his tongue in a strange girl’s throat. It took me a while to realize it was him but in the end it was the fluff on his upper lip that gave him away. Grace was very happy with me for telling her and said having a brother to keep a lookout for her wasn’t such a bad thing after all. And she gave me two pounds for my trouble, which I spent on bottom cream for Faith and Hope (more of them later). It was the only thing I could afford in the shop and I reckoned it was the gift that keeps giving. So, you see, I’m all about saying I love people in my own way.

You made a new life with new people and that’s okay, but you can’t forget the old people. Not that we’re old people, but you know what I’m saying. We were still here, Dad. We were waiting for you to return. At least, I was. This makes me sad.

THE BIGGER LIST OF HAPPY THINGS

Mum is happy. Mum has Big Dave. They’re going to get married in the autumn. I think you’d like him. I like him. He runs Kwik Kars and he can strip an engine in minutes, even if he can’t spell Quick Cars properly. Big Dave used to be married to a woman called Catriona. I thought her name was Caroline, but that’s a long story. I won’t bore you with it now because I’m sure you’re busy up there. Can you see the planets from heaven? Big Dave bought me a planet mobile once but Charles Scallybones ate it.

The guitar: that’s one of my happy things. I’m awesome at the guitar. My best piece is “Over the Rainbow”. I wanted to play it for you at our Project Eco Everywhere show but you left before you heard me. If you close your eyes now you can imagine me playing. Mum bought me a present recently. She said it was a gift from you. I didn’t understand her at first. Turned out it was this silver guitar pick and she’d had it engraved. DAD IS “OVER THE RAINBOW” it said. Every time I play my guitar I let the music travel on the breeze and perhaps it will travel to you. And every time I see a rainbow I will know you’re just behind it, like an indigo-coloured zombie. Just out of my reach. I’ve started learning a new tune now. It’s called “Caroline”. I think you’d like that one too. Big Dave bought me the music. I’ve also joined a boy band. Mainly it’s me and Christopher (more about him later too), and we’re going to call ourselves The Papercuts, because I got one when I was writing down lots of ideas for band names. Who knew that paper was lethal?

Ninja Grace has taken up kickboxing. But that’s okay, because I’m going to tae kwon do now. She dumped Stan for cheating on her and has a new boyfriend called Todd, Love God. Those are her words, not mine. Todd is okay and does not have a hairy upper lip or another girl attached to it. (Note: I tried to call her Princess Grace, like you used to, but then she nearly broke my arm because my dog ate her best ballet pumps and I thought this wasn’t princessy behaviour.)

Christopher is my new stepbrother. Yes, me with a brother. I know it’s bonkers but there you go. He’s Big Dave’s son and he’s the same age as me. We’re even in the same class at school. We have history and fell out over a girl but it’s all settled down now and we’re best mates. Christopher was the person who introduced me to tae kwon do and I really love it. Christopher also plays guitar like me, only he’s not as awesome. Grace says it doesn’t matter that he’s not such a great guitar player because he’s much better-looking and that’s what counts in a band. Ninja Grace must’ve been kicked in the head at kickboxing, because she makes no sense.

I have twin sisters. They’re called Faith and Hope. They’re living, breathing poo machines. I don’t know what Mum is feeding them, other than milk, but what is coming out in their nappies smells like the foulest rubbish dump. Think rotten eggs on cabbage leaves on stilton cheese on cauliflower and you’re halfway there. However, they’re also a bit cute, for girls.

School is going well and I’ve got a good bunch of mates. I’m still friends with Jo Bister, by the way. She is completely obsessed with religious stuff now. A while back she gave me this medal of Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows and told me to write a list of ten things I wanted more than anything in the world. Jo told me that, with the help of Saint Gabriel, one dream would come true. One dream would heal me and lift me from my sorrow. I kept the medal for months and one by one the things I thought I wanted fell from the list until I was left with this final thing. Number ten. At first, I thought I’d lost this dream but then I realized I hadn’t. Recently I gave the medal back to Jo and she accepted it. To be honest, I’m not sure if Saint Gabriel healed me or I healed myself. All I know is that I spent a long time thinking my family wasn’t perfect and then I discovered that it didn’t matter, because it was perfect for me.

I’m happy.

That is all.

Your loving son,

Dan. X

We walk in silence, me lost in thought and Big Dave staring into an ocean of sky. Moonlight bathes us in silver water and the night air has a bite to it. Although my fingers are frozen, I try not to disturb what is in my hands. I carry it as though it’s priceless: a tissue treasure cupped inside my fingers. The words bleed across the ricepaper and they blur as I try to hold back my tears. In my pocket are the matches Big Dave took from the kitchen cupboard and a photograph of Dad that I cut from the newspaper.

Big Dave comes to a stop and lays his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. He promises he’ll be waiting for me when I’m ready to return. I nod and then carry on alone. Above me the sky is studded with diamond chips. The wind gently whips up and ruffles my hair and I know. I just know. I stop. It is time.

This is the moment I’m going to let go.

I’ve built myself up. Prepared myself for what I know I’ve got to do. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, because the bubble mountains rising inside my stomach tell me otherwise. I pull Dad’s photograph from my pocket. A final kiss is delivered. The paper smells inky but I imagine the scent of Dad’s spiced apple aftershave as I close my eyes. When I open them again, it’s just me and Dad in a universe surrounded by a million stars.

“This is goodbye,” I whisper, placing his photograph inside the sky lantern. “This is where I set you free and in turn you set me free.”

My fingers shake as I light the candle and I hold the sky lantern in my hands for the longest time, afraid of letting Dad go. The candle burns so low I have to take it out and replace it with another. Again, I light the candle and the sky lantern tugs in my hands. It’s as though Dad is desperate to be released and as the lantern pulls and twists I let it go.

Let Dad go.

The sky lantern rises softly into the night sky, starting out on its journey. I watch it, blinking back tears, and it’s all I can do to say, “Goodbye, Dad. I love you,” because my throat has closed over. A golden dot now, it bobs on the currents of air, higher and higher; far from my touch. And then it’s carried high into the clouds beyond the Paradise estate. I don’t see the light go out; it simply floats away over the horizon.

Gone from my view for ever.

A tear rolls down my cheek, knowing that this is my final goodbye to Dad. Yes, he said goodbye to me on the stairs when I was seven, but now I’ve had the chance to say mine. Not that it means I’ll forget him. I won’t. Not ever. Dad will always be a little jigsaw piece in my life. Perhaps not as big a piece as he was before, but if I removed Dad completely, the jigsaw wouldn’t be right. So Dad’s always going to be with me and no one can ever take that away. Despite the ache in my heart, I know everything is going to be okay. That’s how I feel as the breath of a soft wind dries my tears. And that’s how I feel as I turn to look at the trees behind me. They’ve come through the winter and now they’re growing stronger and I’m going to do the same.

As I stride through the grass, I realize that this is a whole new beginning of Dan Hope. Far in the distance I can see Big Dave and when he spots me he waves. And that’s when something really amazing happens. Something that makes me certain that it was okay to let Dad go, because he always loved me, no matter how much I doubted it.

A white feather.

Falls from nowhere.

Softly spiralling.

A white feather.

Like a solitary snowflake.

A white feather.

In an empty night sky.

A white feather.

Floats on the breeze.

A white feather.

An angel’s calling card.