When the pain returns or we are facing another hurdle, I don’t want the memory of what happened tonight to get buried. I don’t want to forget the beautiful moment when your dad looked up from his hospital bed and laid eyes on you. He loves you so much. You bring him so much joy, yet so much pain all wrapped up in this unexplainable emotion that comes with being your dad.
Joy because that’s what you are. Pain because he can’t stand the thought of missing a single second.
He told me not to tell you stories about how things got, how he got. He only wants you to know him before he got sick but the truth is you will never know him not sick.
I felt protective as I walked you into the hospital to see him tonight. Tucked into your sling and hanging on my hip, I worried about you seeing too much. The man slumped over his walker at the front entrance, did he scare you? Was I making a mistake walking you into a place like this? I want to protect your innocence, I want your life to be rainbows and butterflies. I don’t want you to know about sickness or feel sadness. Can I keep you somewhere safe?
I want you to know that you braved it and your presence on this earth gives everyone around you purpose. You are everything that is good.
Your dad tied to IVS, lifted you over his head to see you smile. You giggled uncontrollably as he smooched under your chin. All he could do was soak you in like he’s wanted to for weeks. He was finally feeling a little better, good enough to laugh with his little girl.
We had to smile as the doctor came in and explained test results and changes in meds. Your little voice trying to overpower the man in the white coat. You may have gotten your mothers gift of gab and you clearly had a few questions of your own.
Sweet Mira, no matter what happens, I want you to know your dad loves you, he fights for you, he tries for you. He never wanted this for you. You little girl are everything that is good and you learned from him.