first day of school. »
« When you turn sixteen. »
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« For your school graduation. »
« For the day you fall in love. »
I continued reading until I came to an envelope that I couldn’t open.
« For the day you need your father and I’m not there. »
That’s when I broke down.
For years I had mourned all the things Michael would never experience.
But I had never really thought about the fact that he, too, had mourned those moments.
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He had already imagined them before the twins were even born.
Their birthdays.
Their first days of school.
Heartbreak.
School qualifications.
The people they would one day become.
And because he knew that he might not be there, he had found a way to still somehow experience those moments.
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These letters were that way.
No gifts.
No dramatic farewell.
Small parts of him.
The voice of a father, waiting in the future for questions
