At work today I saw a couple in line with a little girl. She looked about maybe 3 or so. I'm really bad when it comes to guessing a child's age but she was pretty young. I felt hit in the chest or something like that because I thought about my dad and I missed him. I still have to consciously remind myself that, yes, he's dead, and no, he's not coming back.
That little girl seemed really happy. That age where your parents are still your world and nothing bad ever penetrates your environment. I don't have much memory of my very early years. Seems like my memory started fully around 5th grade, so before that it was just bits and pieces, here and there.
I hope that when she's 24 she can remember that moment that I saw today. A devoted father and the giggly little girl in his arms, they were each other's world. I hope for her sake that bond is never broken.
