Sometimes I feel like we are stealing from our children.
When I was a teenager, I thought I was in love.
Many, Many times.
It was how we learned.
I was also depressed.
Deeply, deeply depressed.
For no real reason.
But I pushed through it all.
I don’t even remember now why, or how.
We have sheltered our children too much.
That first love is an amazing thing.
It is a confusing and fleeting thing.
But it is powerful.
It teaches us.
Who we are, and who other people are.
I can still feel the fire of every love I have had.
I want my daughters to feel the power of that feeling.
The elation.
The pure joy where light seems to shine from our eyes.
The racing heart rate.
The inability to think or even breath.
But then comes the pain.
It always comes at some point.
It always will.
It crushes our soul.
Feels like a boulder on our chest preventing our heart from beating.
The world goes dark and we lose faith in ourselves.
Then one day we wake up.
And the sun has come back up.
We have a cup of coffee that tastes good again.
There is a rabbit twitching it’s tail in the back yard
Maybe the world did not end.
Maybe we are still a good person.
Maybe we are going to be ok.
To my dear daughters.
I wish you love.
And God forgive me.
I wish you loss.
It is the only way that you will learn life’s hard lessons.
That you are strong,
and you will survive anything.
Come see your papa when it happens.
I will hold you tight.
And say I am sorry.