| I guess I'm awake. I open my eyes and see the ceiling.
There's cob webs on the light. Oh well. I sit up and look out the window. Sun's up. The alarm hasn't gone off yet. My breath catches. It was set so, that if Sophie over slept and didn't call me, I could call her. She won't be calling anymore. The only time the phone rings, now, is wrong number. I put my head in my hands and feel a tear run down my cheek. How long has it been now? Doesn't matter I guess. This final hole in my life is too much. The cat food bowls are empty. Emma is so much bigger now, but still cute. Can't touch Margaret, again. It's like she knows. I wonder what Baby's doing. I'll never see her again. I'm not driving 7 hours to see a cat and be reminded of my daughter - not that I have to be reminded. She's in my heart every moment. I hope her pain has ended. Damn, I hope she no longer hurts. I told her that I'd take her pain if I could. I've go it now and I have to bear it alone. I wonder if she realized, that even though I couldn't help, how much I cared and that she was NEVER alone. I was with her then. and I'm with her now. I pour a cold cup of coffee. Why bother heating it? I won't really taste it anyway. Sitting in front of the computer I look at the three pictures of her. She seems so real. So alive. WWW.COFFEE.COM. Yea, the handle got broke, like her life, like my heart, but she gave it to me. I reach out and touch it, knowing she has touched it too. Briefly I feel a little closer to her. Briefly. Too briefly. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. I know you can't hear me, I know you are at peace, but I do love you so much. The memory of your pain burns in my mind, burns in my body, burns in my heart. I wanted you to go to Harvard. Even if you didn't get in, I wanted you to have the chance. And if not the first year, the next. Or the next. But.... I check email. There's no group mail. I've unsubbed from all of them. I posted to them that you had died and there was the normal flurry of comments, but I didn't even read them. That wouldn't bring you back. That won't put you in my arms. I tell you, "Night, Night, Daughter, I love you," every night and sometimes I hear you say, "Good night, Daddy. I love you too." Those nights, I get to sleep on a wet pillow. Yes, that's really every night. I can hear you. I can see you. I just cant' touch you and I miss you so much.. It really hurts. I knew it would. It does. I miss you Daughter. I love you now and forever, Daughter. ALWAYS! Love you, Dad |