Disappointment

We told him last week. Reminded him on Sunday. Called him on Tuesday. Phoned him this morning. He knew the place. The time. The importance ...

And she sang her little heart out, scanning the crowd for familiar faces, skipping over ours, already knowing where we sat. I watched her looking to find the one face that was missing. The most important face of all.

Disappointed doesn't cover how she felt when she realized he hadn't come. Her chin started to tremble and she averted her eyes as if there were something incredibly interesting on the floor. And when it was over, she marched like a little soldier out to the car, one foot in front of the other in a forward motion and dissolved into tears the moment she was inside.

"He didn't even come," she cried. And I reached out my hand to hold onto hers and tried to comfort her with reasonable excuses. "He didn't even come ..."

We cried together. Her for her need to be validated by his presence and me for the tears he made her cry.

Why is it so hard for him to understand?

The most important face to see, is the one that isn't there ...