Dear Journal,
Did I ever tell you how smart Dinky is? She asked me at breakfast why I had been crying. She said she could tell because my eyes were red. So I told her.
I'm proud to say that I didn't chicken out even though I really wanted to. I knew that would be the wrong thing to do because of how badly I didn't want to tell her. I didn't try to put her off, though, or say I'd tell her later, or tell some stupid lie like that I just had hayfever or something. I finally just told her why she doesn't have a dad, and she understood. What age do kids usually begin to understand death?
She wants to know more about him now. I told her that we'd talk about it this weekend.
I'm not trying to worm my way out of it, I swear! I just want to do this right. I need the time to get my head in order. Dinky doesn't remember him, and I don't want her to associate his name with crying and unpleasant thoughts. I want her to be happy when she thinks of him, so I need to learn to be happy when I think of him. I've spent... way too long trying not to think about it. Honestly, it's more than a little pathetic how long I've put off dealing with it, it's been... how many years?
I'm not sure, and I really don't want to count it out. It's time for me to move on though. It's time for me to accept what's happened to our family and put it to rest.
I have three days and no ideas.