Does Daddy love me? A conversation with my daughter.

In the car…

My daughter, age 4: My Daddy isn’t here.  He lives in Heaven.

Me: Yes he does.

MD: But he loves me?

Me:  Yes he does.  He send love from Heaven.

MD: Even when it’s dark?

Me:  Even when it’s dark.

MD: Even when it’s light?

Me: Even when it’s light.

MD: Even through the whole day?

Me:  Yes.  All the time.

MD: Even when I am at school?

Me: Even when you are school.

MD: Even when we are at home?

Me: Even when we are at home.

MD: Does Daddy love me when we are in Maine?

Me: Yes, Daddy loves you when you are in Maine.  He loves you everywhere.

MD: Even when we are at a friends house?

Me: Even when we are at a friend’s house.

MD: Does Daddy love me when I am at ‘nastics class?

Me: Yes, Daddy loves you when you are at ‘nastics class?

MD: Does Daddy love me even when we go to the shopping store?

Me:  Yes.  He loves you when we go to the shopping store.

MD: Even at birthday parties?

Me: Yes, even at birthday parties.

MD: Even when I dance with princesses?

Me: Yes, even when you dance with princesses.

MD: Even when we are apple picking?

Me: Yes, even when we are apple picking.

MD: Does Daddy love my stinky feet?

Me: Yes.

MD: Smell them.

Me: No

MD: Smell my stinky feet.

Me: No.

MD: Does Daddy love me when I am being funny.

Me: Yes, Daddy loves you when you are being funny.

MD: But what if he runs out?

Me: Runs out of love?

MD: Yeah.

Me: Daddy will never run out of love.  You don’t run out of love in Heaven.  It’s always there.

MD: Oh.  Can we listen to Rapunzel?

Me: Sure.

* * *
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger from Pexels

 

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“I told you so” – A Bryon McKim birthday story

August 25ish, 2011

I was watching news coverage on Hurricane Irene which was heading directly to New York City.

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For the first 31 years of my life (minus three months in Indiana), I have lived within 20 miles of the ocean, with 15 of those years living in a Coastal Maine town.

If there is one thing I have learned, it is that you don’t underestimate an ocean storm.

Seriously, we have all seen The Perfect Storm, right?

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I went to Wal-Mart and stocked up some supplies.  Items such as candles and batteries and non-perishable food.

I came home and Bryon mocked me.

Our conversation went something like this.

Kerry: Hey, we should make sure our floor in the basement is clear in case the basement floods.

Bryon:  Um…we live 200 miles inland.

Kerry:  And this storm is 400 miles wide and heading straight for New York City.

Bryon: This isn’t the Maine Coast.  You are worrying about nothing.

Worrying about nothing was a common grievance Bryon had about my personality.  It’s ironic that I wouldn’t learn to worry less until he died.

Bryon and I both liked being right and we were both stubborn.  I dropped this issue because I knew I wasn’t going to convince Bryon.  But I didn’t forget…

Sunday Morning, 
August 28, 2011
Bryon’s Birthday

Our basement is flooding.  We were unprepared for that.

As we are wet-vaccing our basement floor, I decided at that point that it would be a good time to point out to Bryon that I was right.

Bryon did not appreciate being told that he was wrong.

An argument ensues.

I get pissed and decide since Bryon knew all the answers, he can deal with the flooding basement.

I storm upstairs and sit angrily on the couch.

A period of time passes.  It felt long but it was probably 5 or 10 minutes, Bryon comes upstairs and says that being pissed at each wasn’t going to help the situation.

I knew at that point he was right so I head back down to the basement.

We continue to wet vac until we notice that the water was seeping in through microscopic cracks in the cement.  So Bryon took my Jeep Compass to Lowe’s…in the middle of a hurricane to buy some hydraulic cement.  Luckily we patch up enough of the cracks and the flooding is controlled.  (Though it took a month and a strongly worded letter for our rental company to address the issue).

We were lucky.  Hurricane Irene caused so much damage in Upstate New York but Albany was pretty much spared.

The storm let up in the afternoon and we met our friends at Mahar’s.  The woman who would become our future daughters Godmother posted this picture of Bryon on Facebook.  She was going to call him Hurricane Clifford.  (Clifford was Bryon’s middle name and it was a hit among his friends).  Bryon requested she call him Tropical Depression Clifford.

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Bryon and I would later laugh about this day.  I just look back and I see what two stubborn people we were.

Luckily we forgave each other.  We got engaged at Mahar’s a week and a half later.

Though…I was right.

Happy Birthday in Heaven, Handsome.