No Answers

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“Daddy, where did mommy go?”

It was the question I’d been dreading. It’s a valid question from a four-year-old whose mother is suddenly gone. The problem is, I don’t have an answer. Not one that would make sense.

I know what happened to her, how she died. But where she is now, I have no idea. I never concerned myself with Heaven, Hell, or even whether or not there is an afterlife.

“Sweetie, I just don’t know.” It was the truth. “But wherever Mommy is, I know she is missing you right now.” Also the truth. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get you back to bed. You need your rest.”

I’m on the verge of spilling the tears I’ve been trying so hard to hold back. In my mind, I have to be strong. I don’t want to upset my daughter any more than she already is. Besides, I feel like if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop. Not anytime soon, anyway.

I tucked my little girl into bed once again. She’s been having trouble sleeping the last couple of nights, since it happened. So have I, which is why I’m up at this ridiculously late hour. “Goodnight, sweetie.” I kiss her on the cheek and pull the covers up to her chin.

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

Goodnight. Will I ever have a good night again? It’s looking and feeling doubtful right now. I know this kind of thing happens every day. What I don’t know is how the hell people move on.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to here, with me. We were going to raise Reese together. Maybe have another child or two. We were supposed to grow old and gray together. Maybe travel the country in a tricked out RV after we retired.

The funeral is tomorrow. There will be more questions asked that I don’t have the answers to. Maybe the answers will come to me in time. Maybe they won’t.

I know that I don’t know what to do without her. I know that I don’t know who I am without her.

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