December 28th, 2025
Sunday
Tiger’s birthday
3:07pm
I called Dubya, and asked him to wish Tiger a Happy Birthday for me. He hadn’t checked his email yet, so she hasn’t seen the letter.
I am extraordinarily sad that it’s her 16th birthday and I can’t be there with her to celebrate it. The pain sears my heart like an iron reddened by fire. First blood, but then, pushed deep, cauterizes it to an everlasting blackened scar. There is smoke, and the smell of cooking meat as it settles into my beating heart: the fact that my only daughter doesn’t want me.
A searing, breathtakingly awful pain comes, and stays with me, until maybe one day the wound might fade some and the scar might lighten, and not be so fresh and excruciating like it is now.
She has turned her back on me, a steadfast turn, and is anchored in her position, standing strong like a warrior, surveying the wreckage of the bloodied battlefield after the warfare.
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