NO.23; A LETTER TO SOMEONE YOU WANT TO GIVE A SECOND CHANCE

APRIL 2nd, 2014

Dear Dad,

I found you looking at a picture of Mum today. I imagine if sorrow could manifest into a person, it would be you. You looked like its very definition.

I didn't mean to walk in you, I know it was a private moment, something you only allowed yourself to wallow in once in a blue moon but it was a mistake. I'd been searching for the cheese grater since I wanted to make myself a ham sandwich but it was nowhere to be found. I asked Evelyn if she knew where it was and she said you were the last one to use it. So, that's why I went up to your room.

"Hey, Dad," I began as I walked into your bedroom, "have you seen the cheese grater? I want to -"

I paused at the sight of you sitting stiffly at the edge of the bed, holding a picture in your hands but if it was the look on your face that made me freeze. It was dark and lost like you had stumbled back into a storm you thought had passed long ago. I felt cracks snapping into my heart.

"Dad?" I said it softer this time as I stepped further into your room. I was close enough to see the picture holding your attention. My breath stuttered in my throat when I saw it was a picture of Mum. The wear and tear told me it was an old photograph.

She was in a park with two other women but I knew it was her. I could spot Mum in a sea of a thousand people. She looked younger than I'd ever seen her. Young and enchanting and so much like Evelyn, it was jarring. A picnic basket sat before the three of them. I recognised one of the women as Aunt Mala, Mum's older sister. Aunt Mala lay on her side and gave the camera a shining grin whilst the other woman was content with a simple somewhat timid smile.

Mum sat between them on a large blanket with a can of cider in her hands. Her dark hair wasn't in braids or the long wavy style I was so used to. It was cut short in a sharp pixie bob that made her look like she belonged to a rebel group. Behind her lay the city, tall buildings stretched past the bushes and blossoming trees. She wasn't really looking at the camera, she'd turned slightly to the right and there was the hint of smile on her lips as stared at something in the distance. She was beautiful. The camera had captured her in a moment of perfect youth and I could see why you had fallen so madly in love with her.

"Picnics were her favourite thing to do in summer," you said, your voice suddenly cut through the silence. It made me jolt in surprise. "She dragged me, your aunt and her friend out to the park near the University of Cape Town. She said it was too beautiful of a day to stay inside." You huffed out a laugh, "I was supposed to be getting the food out of the picnic basket but she just looked so...so beautiful, I had to take a picture."

I didn't know what to say for a few moments because you hadn't talked about Mum since the funeral. She remained an unspoken presence in our house for years. Jasmin had felt it when she first arrived and she'd been trying her best to work her through it. I think by now she used to it, used to the everlasting shadow of Mum floating in the background.

"How...how old is she here?" I asked once I'd gotten over my initial surprise.

"Twenty-two," he said, he turned the picture over and read out the date scrawled on the back in black pen. "Thursday, March 31st, 1988." You flipped it back over, your eyes scanned the picture like you were searching for something. "This picture was taken about two years before I proposed to her and five years before Evelyn was born. We'd only been dating for a year and a half but I knew then, just like how I know now, I loved her very much."

You didn't say anything for a while, the both of us just stared at the picture of her, both fascinated and entranced by her.

"I named Evelyn after my grandmother who'd passed way when I was a kid," you said, "Your mother decided on Ariel for your little sister after the aunt who raised her."

Your thumb grazed over Mum's face on the picture.

"Evelyn and Ariel were easy to name but you...you were the hardest," you continued, "Do you know why we named you Morgana?"

I shook my head. I'd never liked my name. It felt too harsh and clunky, it wasn't as pretty as Evelyn and Ariel.

"For nine months neither of us could agree on a name and then, about a week after you were born your mother remembered the myths and legends she used to love as a child. Her favourite were the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Whilst everyone loved King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Merlin and the knights, your mother said she always rooted for King Arthur's nemesis and half-sister, Morgan le Fay."

I frowned, "I was named after an evil witch?"

You still didn't look at me as you shook your head. Your eyes were glued to the picture of Mum. "You don't understand," you said, "To your mother, Morgan le Fay was more than that. She was a sister, a mother, a healer, an enchantress. She said the reason Morgan had been presented as an evil witch was because there was nothing men feared more than a powerful woman and Morgan le Fey was that and so much more. She always used to say Morgan le Fay was a symbol of feminine power, of spiritual transformation."

The corner of your mouth tugged up into a faint smile, "So she named you Morgana as a homage to her favourite literary character. She thought you were going to be powerful and a healer like Morgan in your own right. At first I didn't get it but as grew up I could see what she meant."

You finally looked over at me and I froze.

"Morgana," there was an unmistakable tenor of pride in the way you said my name, "You have an innate kindness, a strong need to help others that many don't have. I think you mistake your kindness for weakness, but it's not, it's your greatest strength and it's gonna take you far." You glanced back at the photograph, unaware of the fact my heart had gone wild in my chest.

"Dad-"

"I hope you can forgive me."

I blinked, "For...for what?"

"For not being there for you when your mother died. I fell apart, so to stop myself from completely unravelling I retreated in on myself. So far deep I couldn't hear anyone, couldn't think about anyone else except your mother," you said, your grip on the photograph seemed to tighten until your knuckles were white.

"When I think back to those months all I remember is darkness and the feeling of being crushed by it. It's just...I loved her so much and when she died it was like everything went with her. Everything. God, this is horrible to say but you and your sisters, you reminded so much of her...I couldn't be around you....I'm sorry..."you shook your head, "I should have been there for you. I shouldn't have left you and your sisters to pick up the pieces by yourself. God. You were only kids. I'm so sorry."

I stared at you with wide eyes, my heart beating faster than before.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Your voice snapped me out of my stupor. I lifted my hand and placed it gently on your shoulder. "It's okay, Dad," I told you, "It's okay."

I felt stupid because I couldn't think of anything else to say but then you lifted your own hand and placed it over mine. You took a deep breath, your shoulders relaxing as you exhaled.

"You look tired," I said, "You should get some rest."

You said, "I don't think this is the kind of tired you can sleep off."

Once again, I didn't know what to say. Well, what are you supposed to say to something like that?

"Just...w-won't you at least try?" I asked.

You nodded, almost numbly, after a few seconds. I gave your shoulder one last squeeze before my hand slid off. I turned to leave but at the last second decided to kiss your cheek.

"It really is okay," I said and you glanced at me, that faint smile appearing on your lips but it wasn't the longing one you'd given Mum's picture, this one had hope and contentment. "Dad, you know...you know I love you right?"

You choked out a short, elated laugh. "I do now."

I felt a twinge of sadness for you, for thinking I didn't love you all these years. Is that why you'd distanced yourself from me after Mum's death. You thought I hated you?

"And so does Evelyn and Ariel and Jasmin," I said, "we all love you. Very much."

Your smile became a little brighter, "You're just like your mother, Morgana, you're too good for this world."

"Go to sleep, Dad," I said, smiling, "I'll wake you up when dinner's ready."

You nodded and with one last glance, you opened up the drawer and slipped it inside before shutting it again. I left you to get in bed and walked out of the room. Once I was in the corridor, I slumped against the wall and let out a long sigh. I slid down the wall and landed on the floor with a low thud. I closed my eyes. That conversation had drained me. I felt like I had walked for a thousand days but at the same time, I felt good. Like I'd dropped some baggage along the way and after a little break, I could keep going.

When it was time for dinner and I woke you, you asked me if I could help you fix the car engine after school tomorrow since it was acting up. I'd looked at you in surprise because you usually got one of your friends to help you.

"Yeah, sure," I said and then it was your turn to look surprise, as if you hadn't expected me to say yes.

You smiled pleasantly and nodded before we walked into the kitchen for dinner.

It depresses me that you thought I hated you after all these years. Dad, I want to you know that I love you and although it might not seem like it sometimes, I really do love you. And that for the first time in a long time, I actually feel like your daughter. I'm so glad we're giving each other a second chance. I'm looking forward to helping you fix your car tomorrow, to talking to you under the afternoon sky and over the open trunk of the car.

And if you're still wondering if I could ever forgive you that might be problem, because you are already forgiven.

Love, Morgana.