I entered through the back door which was one of the entrances to our kitchen. I’m not sure why I didn’t go to my bedroom and bury my head in a pillow. It always felt good in our kitchen so I just sat down at the dinner table and stared at the flowered centerpiece.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked when he sat next to me. I think he already knew the answer to the question and wasn’t surprised when I chose to say nothing at all. For hours we sat together staring here and there as our thoughts shifted with the time. He got up, made some hot chocolate and sat down next to me again. Every once in a while he would look over at me and smile in a way that let me know everything would be all right. Every once in a while I would look over at him and see nothing but sincerity.
If you asked me now why I was sad and alone that night, I couldn’t tell you. All I can remember is my father’s hand on my shoulder, his gentle smile, and the calm reassurance that turned away my fears. No matter what happened I knew he would be there for me just as he was then. Two hours of his time gave me wisdom beyond my years and the memory of his compassion in everything he did for me is one of the few that will never ever fade.
