#106 He describes you to your daughter
I sat on the opposite side of the table, across my five year old daughter. She sat slowly eating the mac and cheese I had cooked her for dinner, and although she didn’t say it, I knew she hated it when I cooked for her. She wanted her mother to cook or her but, her mother wasn’t here anymore. Y/N had died three years ago and I was left to raise Molly on my own and Mollie was left with no memory of her mother.
Mollie never said anything about it but, I knew she was more upset about it than she told me. I could see the disappointment in her eyes when I picked her up from preschool when every other kid had their mothers picking them up or when I sat and watched her at ballet practice, surrounded by the moms of the others kids. I could see the sadness of eating mac and cheese made from of box instead of something your mother had spent an hour preparing.
“Daddy.” Mollie said, placing her spoon back on the plate.
“What was mommy like?” Mollie played with her food refusing to look me in the eyes. I was startled by the question, she had never asked me something like this before.
“Your…..your mother?” I repeated. Mollie simply nodded and continued to play with her food. “Y/N……she was……amazing. She was strong, people would say mean things to her sometimes but……she never let it hurt her. And she was beautiful. She was absolutely stunning. I would sometime look at her and think ‘now how did a guy like me end up with someone like you” Mollie was staring at me wide-eyed now, drinking in ever word I said. “She loved you so much.” I continued “She was so happy when we found out we were gonna have a baby and the entire time she just glowed with happiness. And when you were born, she wouldn’t let anyone besides me hold you. And when we took you home, she would always make sure you were happy, you never cried once when she was round.” I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt a tear land on my hand. I bring my attention back on Mollie.
“Do you miss her?” Mollie asked.
“Yea” I mutter as tears begin to fall rapidly “I miss her a lot.” Mollie sniffles and I notice she’s aslo crying. “Why are crying, Mollie?” I ask softly.
“Because I can’t miss her. I don’t remember her.”
I get up from my seat and quickly pull my daughter into a tight hug. “Oh Mollie.” I rub her back as she clutches onto my shirt, soaking it with tears. “It’s ok to miss someone you’ve never met.” Mollie holds me tighter, whimper softly. “Do you want me to tell you more about mommy?”
“Yes.” She mumbles through tears. I take a seat on the sofa and place her on my lap.
I search my memories trying to find a good place to start the story “We’ll start at when I first met mommy.”