My parents divorced when I was very young. I have no memories of my father, I only remember that once he just left me in the middle of my home village when he brought me back home. Drunk. I was lucky that a neighbour who was driving by noticed me and stopped, put me in his car and drove me home. I was three years old at the time.
My father drank a lot, so he and my mother divorced. I often wondered where he was and what he was doing. But he didn't really exist for me. I had a few thoughts of visiting him, as he lived only 15 kilometres away, but I always nipped them in the bud. I was afraid. When I think about it now, it is very sad that I was afraid of him.
At the age of 25, when I already had a family of my own, we once visited my mother. The phone rang and my mother said it was for me.
"Hi, Maja, this is Andreja, your cousin. Your father has died, my condolences." Nothing was clear to me. I didn't even feel anything. I also offered my condolences and asked her what it was and when the funeral was. That was all. It was the first and only call in my life that connected me with my father.
The very next day, it was the main story in the newspaper. My father died in his house because of a fire. He had a seizure when he had a cigarette in his hand, and it caught fire It said that he had wanted to meet his daughter all his life, but he had never managed to do it ...
I decided to go to the funeral. Nobody wanted to go with me except my cousin. I would not have made it without her. She stood by me when I needed it most. I have to admit that that day was one of the hardest days of my life.
"It'll work out, Maja, I'm here for you no matter what." So we went to Kamnik. First, to the farewell wagon, where I saw my cousins, my aunt and uncle and my grandmother for the first time in my life. It was not easy. Not at all because I saw the similarities between us. It was then that I finally realised all that I had missed out on in my life. They were my family that I had never had the chance to know. It became difficult for me, and I couldn't find the words.
Before the funeral, my cousin took me to a nearby café for a coffee to try to get my head together. We sat outside on the terrace and I noticed that two people were watching us from inside the café. One of them was obviously the waiter. He came up to us, asked what we were going to order and went back inside. He was gone for a while.
When he brought us coffee, he turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, but you must be the daughter of the late Jože, aren't you?" I nodded. "You know, Maja, your father came to our house several times for a drink and he always sat at this very table. Exactly in that chair where you're sitting. He often talked about you. He loved you, even if he couldn't show it."
In that moment, for the first time in my life, I felt the one and only connection with my father. I was grateful for those words.
I met a part of my family that I hadn't known before. I learned a lot of things about my father. So I have my artistic flair through him. Now I know that he loved me.
Maja Grošelj, 7. 4. 2025
English (UK) 
Slovenščina 
Italiano 
Magyar