Daddy's girl

March 27, 2010

Jeremy is a creature of habit. He's not big on change, not big at all. Sometimes, particularly the times that I'm wanting to shake things up a little, I find that trait a little irritating. Until I remember that I am one of those things in his life that he will never change. Then my heart softens.

One of the things that Jeremy loves to do is to hike. But it's not just hiking, it's hiking up to Wasson Peak, the tallest point in the Tucson Mountains, the range that borders the western side of the city. He hikes the same trail almost every time. He loves that in the familiarity of it he still sees new and different things. He's been trying his best to do the hike once a week. It's about a three to four hour hike. The view at the top is breathtaking. The view at the top looks out over the valley where we scattered Harper's ashes. Jeremy did that hike yesterday and we talked about it over dinner last night.

I usually ask him what albums he listened to during his hike. He usually makes it through three and maybe part of a fourth. He's intentional about what he takes with him. Last night he told me about the wildflowers that are in bloom right now, how aromatic it was. And then his eyes welled up with tears. He told me how he thinks of her when he's up there, at the top. How he feels like he's her guardian, watching over her. "You are her guardian. You're her daddy," I said. And I felt myself pull back. I wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, but I didn't. I wanted to tell him all the thoughts I had about him being Harper's daddy, but I didn't. Instead I sat and listened to him talk about what it felt like for him, quickly wiping the tears away from his eyes as he spoke, his bottom lip quivering. Just listen Abby. This isn't about you. This is about Jeremy and his daughter. Don't intrude. Just listen.

And so I listened. I felt my heart open up in a way I can't explain. All this warmth started radiating inside me. And was that joy I felt? Joy? Really? I think it was. I held tight to every word he was said. This was a moment I had thought about. In my fantasies, it was supposed to play out differently, but here it was nonetheless, in it's tragic, mixed up way. I had waited for this moment. Before we lost Harper, the fantasies had been of me sitting in bed next to him at night, listening to him tell me about some adventure the two of them had gone on together. Hearing the adoration in his voice. Sensing the protection for his little girl, the pride. And in my fantasies, I didn't mind being the outsider observing the bond the two of them were forming. I wanted Harper to be a daddy's girl. And that's what it felt like last night. That's why I pulled away. I let them have their moment. Their father-daughter moment.