Carys Comma

My Daughter,

I can recall a conversation that we have never had, and yet we have.

I lag behind you, still.

"Follow me in, just a little further," you whisper at the edge of the Darkness, "I think we can find him, if he is near."

"No, no, honey, we should not go farther. It is dark."

"But, Daddy, all that darkness can reveal him and we can find what you've been searching for. You can be happy again."

"I'm happy..." I correct you, "I'm happy enough."

You don't believe me, but you smile nonetheless and encourage me on. "C'mon, Daddy, we'll find him I'm sure."

Yet, I lag behind.

And I'm sure, too, which may be the reason that I retreat. Perhaps, that is the reason that I can not seem to learn all that you could teach me. You can illuminate any abyss, but I fear your light. I lag behind.

Your father, my dear, is a broken up man, full of shame and fear. I am so good at sounding like I love you, but on the precipice of all that is good and all that is terrifying, I let you go ahead, while I lag behind.

There is so much I regret, and I hate the fact that I think of all that mess, when I see how beautiful you are, and wonderful.