Parenting in the Shadows of Loss

"OK, Sarah, here's how we do it."

I hold out my hand and get her to slap it. Her palm is as soft as a rose petal and smells like strawberries. "One. Two." She does the same. "Three!"

"All right! We did it together." We high five.

She giggles and tries to say, "Yay!" but it comes out as a gurgle of laughter. Every time she hears me say 'yay', she makes the same bubbly sound - it's adorable. I can't believe that I have a daughter who's so talkative and cute, especially considering how scared I was when I first found out that my wife was pregnant with our child. It all happened so quickly; we barely had time to adjust before she was born. And then, just as quickly, after just over two years of life together, my wife died in a car accident. All at once, Sarah was left without a mother and I was left without a wife. I didn't know whether to be angry or sad or happy that I had my beautiful baby girl to care for instead of an empty house full of ghosts of the past. But most of all, I wanted to make sure that Sarah never felt afraid of being alone - that no matter what happened in her life, she would always feel supported by those around her.

I take off my 'dad' hat and wipe away the sweat from my forehead before putting it back on again. It's hot today and even though we're inside in the shade of the back porch, I still need some extra help keeping cool. "You want something to drink?" I ask Sarah. She nods emphatically and goes straight for the cupboard where our glasses are kept. She pulls down one and hands it to me so that I can pour her some water from the bottle that sits on our refrigerator door handle. "Thanks," she says as she takes it from me with both hands, holding onto it like a treasure chest full of gold coins. "Here you go," I tell her as I pour myself a glass too before heading out onto the front porch where there's more light and air circulation from passing cars on the road behind us. We sit together on the steps together with our drinks in hand as we watch the cars drive by until Sarah starts getting antsy for something else to do again.

"How about we play ball in the backyard?" She nods excitedly before rushing over to grab her favourite red rubber ball from inside where we left it earlier when we were playing catch indoors while waiting for dinner to be ready. "Here you go," I say as I hand her back her ball before picking up one end of the netball hoop that leans against our house wall next to us while she runs off into the grass with her ball in tow. The grass is long and thick enough to hide underneath so she can pop up right in front of me before screaming "BONK!" loudly every time she kicks her ball towards me hoping for a hit but missing by miles each time which only makes her laugh harder each time this happens instead of getting discouraged by how bad she is at kicking balls at people who aren't within arms reach of them yet .

"Ahh! You got me!" I scream dramatically even though she didn't actually hit me with her ball despite how close she came after multiple attempts which only makes both of us laugh harder than ever before as we play catch together because sometimes nothing is better than laughing so hard that you cry with your little girl when you're both taking shelter from the heat under your back porch roof on one of those rare occasions when you're home alone because your co-workers decided not to work today because they were too lazy to show up at work despite their paychecks still needing to get cashed before they could spend any money on luxury items like food or water or clothing or heat - because sometimes you wish you could forget everything else but remember how much fun playing games is when you're spending time with someone that means everything in the world to you.