“Mouse!”
Nicole Barrell
42

So it’s 4:30 am on a Friday, and sleep has become a fading wish — because it is getting lighter, and because my pillow is wet.

Not the whole pillow. Just the side closest to nightstand where I keep my phone (which becomes my after-hours electronic keyboard and window to the world — though truthfully way too small for these squinting, now red eyes and gorilla fingers.)

i want to blame this SDD (sleep deprivation device) for my now dank down head support, but in truth, it is not the phone’s fault.

It’s Kristin’s.

She knew if she sent me an email with a link and a message “ Mouse…please read,” that I could only put off that request so long. Because She is my little girl — and Daddy’s hearts always give in to their little girls wishes.

Nicole-maybe you “think” your Dad was with you in spirit the day of your wedding — glistening as sun rays through the clouds or reflecting through your mother’s tears to show you what a beautiful and talented woman you have turned into.

Because I am a father, i can say with certainty that I “know” he was.

You see, when children need their Dads, (really need them), good Dads are always there, Reading your moving account of the events that transpired on the eve of and during your wedding, you Dad was there for you in the best and only way he could be. Through others.

I believe that with all my being. And my now tear-stained pillowcase (which is mow giving me wicked-bad bed hair) holds not tears of sorrow, but rather joy. For you, and your Dad.

He believed you needed him — and as busy as you were, you did. Maybe more than ever.

Being able to begin your new life with a new-found peace about the man he was was a gift I believe he made happen…

…through the noble strength of your brothers’ escort…

… through the stories and tears of your mother…

… through the kind gesture of “Lighthouse”…

And through the parting of the clouds as you said “I do” ( trust me on this one — When they are really needed, Dads can move mountains. Clouds?… a piece of cake.

Thank you for writing — and sharing — such a beautiful story.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.