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Cristina Crescenzo (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

If I could time travel, I’ve always thought it would be cool to travel back to the 80s and meet my parents, or maybe the 50s to see an old Hollywood movie starring Marilyn Monroe, or even 1800s England, specifically Bath, just to be in the same area as Jane Austen while she writes her literary classics. But I know that there is an answer that would make me the happiest. The year 2014, and the chain of events that occurred back then, had irreversible effects that have stayed with me for a decade.

I know I couldn’t stop my dad from passing away because, in this life, I am not a world-renowned doctor. Still, knowing what I know now, there are many things I should have said, but for whatever reason, I never did; if there is one person you should be able to be vulnerable with, it’s a parent. There were so many times when he was sick, but he was still at home and able to do things, and he asked me to stay and spend time with him. Ultimately, I was selfish because I thought I had all the time in the world to make it up to him. Little did I know there was no such thing as infinite time; it seems to only be a human dream. 

I want to be able to relive the small moments from the ice cream and sushi dates, visiting you at work, car rides, story time, the way you sang, bear hugs and the way you asked to hold my hand in Italian: “Dammi una mano.” One of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t grab it enough.

Parents are the ones who are supposed to love you in every state of life, in the moments you are happy, sad, angry and confused. They love you despite the mistakes you make; they love you even when you push them away due to your own pride, and they love you with no need for reciprocation. I can become resentful thinking about the fact that parents are the ones who give you life, and they take the time to teach you right and wrong, so they deserve more than anyone to be able to watch the human they created to experience life while holding their hand.

I don’t speak about it unless I feel compelled to, and right now, I feel that I have to apologize to my father for all the missed opportunities and for the simple fact that I wasn’t close to being the daughter I wanted to be for you. I wanted to be an adult you could be proud of, but I feel like I am failing you. I know you didn’t expect me to be perfection incarnate; however, I know you wanted me to make the best choices for myself, to be able to experience the most happiness a human could, and I haven’t done that at all, to the point where it feels like self-sabotage. 

Unfortunately, you can’t travel back in time, but standing where I am now, I can’t help but be angry with myself for my choices. It’s hard to piece together how I justified my actions back then. I came to these conclusions; I am angry because I owe my future self so much better. So, for now, I just hope, whoever is reading this, that you learn to appreciate your parents for what they gave you, even if you feel it was the barest minimum in your life. They did what they could. I advise you to accept and embrace them while they are here, because when you lose them, it doesn’t matter what age you are. I don’t think you can ever be prepared for the pain and void that is left behind in their wake. I love you, Dad. I’ll be seeing you. Okay?

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I am just a 24-year-old finishing her English bachelor’s degree at Simon Fraser University who loves to read and write in order to help someone in some small way. I will also always advocate for mental health and disabled causes through the written word, and Low Entropy lets me do just that.