It was the second Christmas of my life, and I was sitting in my room when my dad rang.
“Hi, there, you’ve got to come over,” he said.
I was 12.
He asked if he could go downstairs and get some presents for me.
“Sure,” I said, and he led me downstairs.
As we were coming down the stairs, I was watching him go upstairs, which was not a surprise, as we were now in my bedroom, and my dad was in my kitchen.
When he came back down, I noticed he was still sitting in the chair, staring at the television.
“I’m going to have to get you to come downstairs and tell me if you like it,” he was saying.
He’d been drinking.
So I went downstairs and told him, “Dad, can you tell me what you’re doing?”
He told me, “No, I can’t.
I’m going downstairs to tell you.”
I was very nervous.
I thought, “OK, this is going to be great.”
And then he went upstairs, sat down in the middle of the living room, and sat down at the table and began talking about something.
“When you are 12 years old, you are a very sensitive child.
You are a sensitive child,” he told me.
He was talking about how he loved his toys, and how he wanted to be loved, and that his favourite toy was a toy that looked like a dog.
He wanted me to come up and see what it was, because he was talking to me.
I couldn’t believe what he was doing.
I sat there with him for an hour and a half, and then he started saying more.
“There is something in your eyes, your eyes are so big.
You’re so sensitive.
You look so cute, and you are so kind.
You like to be hugged.
You love to be touched.
You want to be fed.
You feel happy when you are happy.”
And so on.
I can imagine how hard it was for him to talk about his love for his toys.
He told this story to me, and it was amazing.
It was a very emotional story, and the best part of it was that my dad really loved me.
And I had been thinking about my dad.
I had talked about him a lot.
I’d thought about him so much, that I had a lot of feelings for him.
I didn’t want to think about him.
But then my mum told me that when I was 10, she was with her boyfriend, and she was going through a relationship and her boyfriend left her.
She went to live with her parents.
She thought, Oh, Dad, I don’t know how I’m supposed to cope.
And then she was 14.
She started going to therapy.
I think she was angry with her father, but she also said that she was so upset about what was happening.
She said, Oh Dad, you know what?
I’m angry with you, Dad.
And that’s why she went to therapy, and when I went to my dad’s house, I didn´t feel any anger.
I felt very happy and happy, and so I had that.
And it really made me feel proud to be his daughter.
I wasn´t really aware of how much I loved him.
When I was 13, I started going into the bedroom and putting my toys away.
It really helped me to relax and to let go.
When my dad came home from work one day, he looked at me, he said, “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
And I said yes, and we were very happy.
Then when my father was in the hospital, I told him about my feelings about my mother and the fact that my father and my mother were in the same room, which had caused my mother so much grief, and they were talking about my mum, and this and that.
I said to him, I feel very angry about that.
“Don’t say anything to my mother,” he advised me.
My mum said, What do you mean?
“She’s my mother.
And she’s the one who told you not to tell me anything about your father,” I told her.
And he said to me again, Don’t say that.
But I knew what he meant.
He said, You can’t tell me about your parents.
And so I didn.
And when my mum and I started dating, I went up to my mum for the first time, and told her that my feelings for my father were so much that I wanted to kill myself.
She told me I was lucky.
I told my mum I was.
And my dad said, Well, if I were your father, you would be more careful.
My mother said, Don´t you think you’d get hurt by killing yourself, Dad?
I said no.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because it’s very painful to kill