Eighteen years passed. And somehow, I survived.
From a girl cradling a newborn and struggling with grief, I became a woman quietly and deliberately rebuilding her life. It wasn’t brave or beautiful…it was necessary.
Eggs and toast on a plate | Source: Midjourney
Susie was growing up. She was sensitive and had Charles’s eyes. And a dimple in her cheek when she smiled…though it appeared slower, more carefully, as if everything that needed doing had to be worthy of her smile.
As I grew older, asking questions came naturally to me.
“What was Dad like?” she would ask, usually when my hands were occupied with folding laundry, stirring soup, or wiping counters.
A pot of soup on the stove | Source: Midjourney
A pot of soup on the stove | Source: Midjourney
I gave him what I had. Stories I was slowly getting tired of telling. I told him about his terrible dad jokes that made me roll my eyes. Photos of his smile as a child. Memories of him singing in the car, always off-key.
She accepted them, but I sensed the emptiness in her eyes.
For a long time, that was enough. Until finally, it wasn’t.
It happened on an ordinary Tuesday evening. I was walking down the hall when I heard Susie’s voice. It was low.
“Okay… I miss you too, Dad.”
My body froze.
Dad. Dad?!
Teenage girl talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
