Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Cancer- A Letter To My Dearly Departed Father

Cancer- A Letter To My Dearly Departed Father

by MCRmygirl 5 reviews

It's fifteen years since Frank passed away. (Alice's letter to Frank)(One-shot)

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Published: 2011-03-07 - Updated: 2012-04-16 - 1267 words

A Letter to My Dearly Departed Father

December 18, 2011
8 pm

My Dearest Frankie,

That is the way that Daddy has always begun his letters to you, isn’t it? For fifteen years now he has written to you. He always sits at the same desk near the fireplace, and writes with the same old-fashioned pen, on the same old pad of paper that’s yellowed with age. He always begins at eight o’clock, and cries for awhile after finishing. He then always turns to me, smiles, and reads the letter to me, asking whether it seems acceptable to send to you. And each one of those fifteen letters he carefully and gingerly places into the blazing fire. Each year, his tears have lessened. Last year, when he wrote his letter, he hardly cried at all. I’m very proud of him for that. Are you proud as well? He says that you see us every day and watch us, and I’m happy to think that such a thing could be true.

Well, my “Frankie Daddy,” this year, I asked Daddy if I could be the one to write the letter. So, with teary eyes, he led me to the old oak desk and handed me the pen and paper. He told me to write to you, anything that I felt it necessary to say. So I must know. Are you proud of your daughter? I have made many mistakes, but I have tried to be my best, for you. I feel as though I could somehow make amends for Daddy, and heal the wound in his heart that your death left, if I could just be good and not cause him grief. He says that I look like you, and that he wishes you could have seen me grow before you passed. I wish I could have seen you, as well.

Sometimes, I feel as though I really do know you. Daddy has told me so many things about you that it feels as though I have lived the stories. My favorite bedtime tales were always those of your nighttime escapades with Daddy. He has shown me the place where you met, and many other places that he held dear to him, though he tells me to this day there are a few spots that he can never show me. This fact is trivial to me, for I have enough of you in my heart to be satisfied, at least until I see you in Heaven. Daddy showed me the place where he carved your names into the tree by your tire swing, the one where you used to sit in for hours to reflect. Daddy says he always used to find you there, staring into the distance with a look on your face as though you were listening to the secrets of the world. I often sit on that same swing, and I see why you would have done so. Sitting there, on the swing, at the edge of the cliff that leads down to the river below- it makes me feel as though the whole world has come to a standstill. Some of the most important realizations of my life have been made on that swing. I wonder, sometimes, what thoughts went through your mind on the swing. Did you ponder life as I do? Did you think of Daddy, and how much you loved him? Or did you think of the people who persecuted you for feeling that love?

There are so many things that I could tell you, Frankie… may I call you Frankie? I can’t exactly call you Daddy, because Gerard is Daddy. It feels wrong to call you Frank; it seems too impersonal and formal. So I guess I will call you by the name that Daddy gives you when he speaks of you so lovingly by the fire. His Dearest Frankie. He misses you so much, you know. There are nights still when I hear him sobbing in his room. He cries out of longing. I doubt anyone in this world could long for a loved one as he does for you, Frankie. He often dreams of you. I know this only because he cries your name in his sleep. He wakes in the night, screaming your name, and I know that he is re-living your death. It kills him, but he gets by. I know there have been times when he wanted to take his own life, but he will not. I know this. On the days when it seems the worst, and I start to worry about him, I hear him singing. He no longer sings for the crowds, as he did when you were together, but very seldom, when the sadness tries to get the best of him, he sings for me. “We’ll carry on,” he sings. He lapses from song to song, in a beautiful, mournful melody. “I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone…” “The only hope for me is you alone…” “Can we pretend to leave and then we’ll meet again…” “Come angels of the lord, come angels of unknown…” He always ends those days in your armchair by the fire. I sit on the floor at his feet, and he sings the song that he says was meant for you. The one that he wrote on tour years ago. He calls it Demolition Lovers. He sings it, and tells me that that is exactly what you two were. Demolition Lovers. Fated to be hated, he says, but meant to be.

Uncle Mikey is here right now, Frankie. He is sitting with Daddy by the fire. He has had to remind him more with every passing day why he stopped drinking. I think he may lapse back into his old ways if we don’t do something. The only thing keeping him from wasting away, from downing the booze that he could so easily get his hands on, is the fact that he loves you too much. He feels that you would be ashamed of him, and he couldn’t bear to make you ashamed. So he holds on patiently, with Uncle Mikey’s help. Ray and Bob help some days, too, though they don’t quite seem to know what to say when they’re around Daddy. He’s so forlorn, and they find it awkward to talk to him. They find his moments of silence as disturbing as I find them heartwarming. It’s hard for them to understand, so I try to explain as best I can. I only wish I could do more.

Well, Frankie, I have to lift my pen off of the paper, before my eyes become logged with tears. I shall place this in the fire, in the hopes that when the smoke rises to Heaven, you shall snatch it up and read it as you have the rest. Uncle Mikey wishes me to send you his love, as do Ray and Bob. However, the one who wishes his love upon you more than any is Daddy. He wishes to let you know that he will never stop loving you, no matter how many years go by. The same holds true for me. Though I have not met you, you are my father, and I shall love you for as long as my body is able. One day, I shall meet you at those golden gates, and we shall be a family again. Until that day, farewell.

Yours in eternity,
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