I walked into my fathers office 3 days after D left. It was late in the day. I had successfully worked all day without one single fit. This was going to be okay. I was going to survive. Dad's office is always a magical place at the end of the day. The sun streams through the windows illuminating everything in this soft orange glow that makes everything look better. I had survived a whole day without breaking into tears... Okay the bathroom fit during lunch didn't count. I was headed into there anyway. I was just storing up that cry for later should I feel I needed it, but found myself in a public place. "Dad" I announced standing tall and feeling certain of myself for the first time in what felt like ever, but in reality was only a few lame days. "I think I'm going to be okay, I think I'm great actually. This is going to be great" I was almost giddy thinking of new possibilities that laid out in front of me. Thinking of all the opportunities of what I could really grow up and be now...
He looked at me, I was probably a mess. Three days of not eating and crying myself to sleep and crying myself awake had probably taken a told on me. He looked at me as if seeing the daughter he loved and recognized having been there in my shoes roughly 20 years earlier. He looked at me and gently smiled as he patted my back and stated advice I still remember and cling to.
"You are going to have good days and you will have bad days" he then picked up his pliers and began working on a fresh pair of glasses once more going about his day at the office.
The next Saturday I stood on my fathers porch and clung to his shoulders as if supporting my entire life and as if I let go I would simply sink into the ground through the cement and into the core of the earth. I cried, again once more emptying my eyes and making way for fresh tears that felt hot as they rolled down my cheeks. In between gasps I stated the obvious.
"Dad, this is a a bad day"