Guitar. Almost Heaven.

I remember seeing a black and white photo of my dad holding a guitar seated atop a car under a covering of trees with the sun's light piercing through the green canvas above his head. He was wearing a nonchalant face, holding a chord with his left hand and a resting right. I recalled seeing a flower on the guitar by the side of daddy's right arm.

Then I remembered the guitar that my daddy gave me. I vividly recalled a flower shaped like thing on the guitar which I thought was odd when I acquired it years ago. There was a shape of a flower somewhere on the guitar oddly familiar with the one I see in the black and white photograph.

I had to find out.

I took out the guitar and there it was, the shadow left behind by what once was a flower sticker of some sort. The shape remains. Leaving an everlasting footprint visible through the sands of time.

I opened the box that contained my daddy's life. I took out the yellowed paper holder and the first photograph that appeared out was ... the exact photograph I was looking for.

Coincidence?

I was stunned. That moment, I really did believe that you were there with mummy and me. Seated by the dining table. How is it possible that the first photograph that comes out of the folder which contains probably a hundred photograph, and the first photograph was the exact one I was looking for. The one of daddy sitting on a car parked under a large tree, perhaps in a forest of some kind, on your lap is a guitar. The guitar shows a flower on it. The very same one that I am holding now.

You were looking at me when you had this photograph. You were looking into the future and you were comforting me. You are with me tonight. I have been drying my tears bank this whole night, daddy. I miss you so fucking much! I am in such a fucking mess right now and I just need to talk with you.

Here's another reason why I know you are speaking to me tonight, through the guitar. Before I found the photograph. I was asking in my head, "Daddy, can you please tell me what were the songs you were playing on your guitar?" and I cried when the silence answered me. 

I cried and I wailed. Talking to myself, I believed that you would perhaps be playing Country Road.

I asked mummy what was the song you played on your guitar.

She said, "His favourite song lah. He sang it in our tour bus during our Eastern Europe trip to Praha and Krakow."

I could hear that song. It was ...

Almost heaven.