There is nothing more painful (for me) than not seeing my daughter.
Saying goodbye to something is hard but going without seeing my daughter feels like slow torture.
A silent house just isn’t natural, especially for me, a woman who grew up with three other sisters. Silence just meant everyone was sold as slave labor to China. There was no such thing as silence. It was loud, 24/7.
It is one thing to admit that a marriage, a relationship does not work when you have tried every last thing in the book, but getting used to not seeing my most favorite person in the whole world seems impossible.
I know it is right and good for children to be with their parents. To get time with both. We made her both and she needs us both.
I just wish I didn’t miss the sound of her voice so much. The music she likes to listen to. Somehow it feels wrong singing to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs without her. Seeing her toys lay around, no one making her fifty million dolls come to life. Cinderella and Belle haven’t had a fight since she left. Snoopy is sitting alone without Woodstock.
My dog doesn’t even bother to chew any of her dolls.
Her bed is unmade, and the blanket is rumpled up as if she were just in it seconds ago.
All I am left with is the empty feeling that she is not here, and I am not with her.
I’m just Linus without his blanket and just left with the thought and desire that I hope she will turn out okay.
That’s all any good parent wants for his or her kid: a happy child.
I don’t care if she’s wealthy or a super star. I just want her to wake up every day rejoicing in the fact that she gets to enjoy another day.
Because I know I do when she is with me.
Alone without her blonde sidekick,
The “Bigger” Blonde