I remember when I wrote my first poem that came straight from the heart. Until the inspiration happened I never thought you could actually hear your heart break, but you can. I was 17 and had lost one of the most important things I ever had.

�Janna have you finished your homework?� Mum yelled down to me. I was sitting on the floor in my room going through my poems. I wanted to send one to my Dad who lived in America.
�Yes!� I lied, believing in my young mind that I would never meet academic satisfaction, it would be no good to me because I was going to be in the movies.
�Come and set the table�
�Ok�
Staring at all my poems I thought how depressed I must seem to the world. All my poems were about misery, unrequited love and unhappy circumstances. I found a nice one about clouds threw it in an envelope with a quick note to my Dad. As I addressed the envelope I thought I would have to finish that long letter I had started him a couple of days ago soon and send it.

I picked myself up off the floor, cleaned up the mess by pushing everything under my bed and went to set the table.

�Can you mail this tomorrow?� I asked, picking up the plates and place mats. Mum glanced at the envelope, picked it up and commented �Its not very big, you haven�t written to your Dad in a while.�
�I know, I will write more later.� I was 17 and didn�t appreciate advice. �Don�t put off till tomorrow what you can do today� I rolled my eyes at my mothers favourite quote.
�Well I can either set the table, or write a letter. Which would you prefer?� Ignoring my attempts to pick a mother/daughter fight, she went on making dinner, I saw it as a triumph.

�Have you heard from your Dad lately?�
�Nope� I continued to set the table. My mum and I had been in Australia 9 years, and I continued to have a great relationship with my Dad. However, a year before, we had a slight falling out. My Grandpa had past away suddenly. I didn�t get the news until a week after it happened when my maternal grandmother rang to say she was sorry after reading it in the obituaries. I rang my Dad immediately and he told me that he had sent a letter explaining what happened. I was livid. I didn�t know what to do. I had missed the funeral, I had missed the chance to say goodbye. When the letter did eventually arrive, I was more upset, because of how it was written. It did not sound like my Dad, it was rushed, confused and clinical. I know he was upset, but his letter didn�t show it. From that point our relationship had been a little strained.

�Thanks for dinner.� I got up and lay on the sofa to watch TV.
�I am going to the grocery store, I won�t be very long.� Mum said picking up her keys.
I waved in her general direction and settled myself in to watch Elle McFeast on ABC.

It was 10pm and I was laughing hysterically when the phone rang. I heard the car pull into the driveway.
I felt very strange, I picked up the phone to hear the STD beeps.
�Hello?�
It was my Nana in America, who never rang during the week and never at this time.
�Is your mother there?�
I didn�t really think much of it until Mum came in the door and I handed her the phone �Its Nana.� Her face drained and my heart started to pound. She dropped the bags she was holding and grabbed the phone.

I don�t remember what was said, I just remember leaning against the kitchen bench, breathing heavy, and biting my fingernail. Mum didn�t say much, she said she would ring Nana in a minute and put down the phone. She turned to look at me, her face appeared grey.

�What!?� My eyes were wide and I could barely hear for my heart beating.
�Who? Nonna?� She just looked at me with tears forming in her eyes. �WHO?!� I screamed.
�Sweetie sit down�
�What, tell me!� I was placed in a chair.
�It�s your Dad, he died of a heart attack this morning this morning� Mum put her arms around me.

A blood curtailing scream left my body, tears flowed and I just doubled over. I couldn�t say anything but �No!� and I just kept letting out screams I couldn�t control. My mother handed me brandy to calm me down. What happened then is a blur.

I was angry at God or whoever decided it was his time. I found my half finished letter I was trying to write Dad and got the inspiration for this poem.