Had a really good sleep. Bogart woke me up scratching the door. It was 7am. Lubna and Chris were supposed to crash over from the night before. I peaked out the bathroom window and down our driveway, their cars were not there. I didn’t want them to leave. We had too much to drink and smoke.

Today, Bella and I were supposed to go food shopping, clean the house, and do the laundry. It didn’t exactly go down that way.

I had a chance to add to your letter from last night. I lightly proof read it. There was more I had to tell you.

I was downstairs in the kitchen when Gabby came down. He hugged and kissed me. He asked for breakfast. Bella came down next. “Bacon egg n’ cheese on a bagel?” I ask.
“I’ll just have bacon on a bagel.” Bella says void of any mention of “Please.” Fucking bitch. It’s not that hard to be polite. It takes the same effort as being a complete douche.

Gabby came into our room, he wanted to watch the Super Bowl again. I had recorded it though we watched it at the Madden’s as we had originally planned.

The win that night; while sweet, it didn’t taste sweet. You weren’t there to witness and experience it with me. Nothing is the same anymore. No midnight snacks. No TV shows. No movies. No music. Nothing. Empty.

Gabby and I lay in our bed. We call Bella in. She lays between us. I turn it on. Gabby asks “When do you want to shave my head?”. He and I talked about it the night before.

Bella couldn’t wait. She was watching a tutorial on YouTube on how to cut hair with scissors.
“Yeah, nah. That’s not gonna happen. We’re using the clipper.” I say. We barely started watching the game. We go into our bathroom. Bring the chair up so he could sit. I decided against the bathroom. Instead, we went into the kitchen. “Easier to clean.” I thought to myself.

Bella was wondering if we should go to the salon instead. She said her hair needed a treatment. “A treatment. What’s a treatment?” I ask quizzically. Here we go, women’s needs that I have no clue what they are. My god, the shit you ladies put yourself into.

“My hair. It needs a treatment.” She answers.
Ohhhhh, I didn’t get it the first time, but the second time around? Still nothing… But apparently hair needs treatment.

I promise you I will not “baby” our baby. I will not “yes” her to death, even though I just did when she asked to have friends over this afternoon. She needs her friends around her. They’ll keep her mind occupied.

I grabbed the clipper. We started looking at the different clipper attachments’ sizes. We decided on one that was deep. We wanted to take down his sides and keep the top a little longer. It didn’t end up that way. We slowly started shaving his hair off. Before you knew it, he had a haircut like mine. Shaved the entire head of hair off. He was laughing hysterically. He had the biggest smile I’ve seen on his face in a while. I think he finally gets it. I finally think he understands what it will take to live life. To roll with the punches.

I gave him a little speech about setting goals. Small goals. Try to win each one on its own. Little wins.
I told him life is like football. A play could be a win of yards or a loss off yards. You go forward and sometimes you go backwards. You get up and keep going forward. You win as many plays as possible and you’ll win the game. You succeed. Set some little goals for yourself. A goal to workout. A goal to eat better. Etc. Tackle each one. Win it or lose it. Try again. Reaching your goal may take on different paths with obstacles that life throws at us. But you can see your goal clearly. Learn to deal with the obstacles. Win them over.
He got it.
It resinated.

Let’s see what kind of goals he sets for himself. From now on, I will not call him Daddy, Gabby or Kiddo. He’s my bud now. I’m going to start calling him “G.”

We laid in bed again and finished watching the game.

G left to school.

[Cig break]

I started cleaning the house. I cleaned the kitchen. Dishes. Countertops. That fucking black granite. You hated the streaks it made when you cleaned it. But you ended up getting rid of them. How the hell did you do that? I used your granite cleaner. Streaks. Rows and rows of streaks.
I cleaned the range. I didn’t have my glasses on, so wiping the stovetop and there was a mark that I kept on wiping hard, but it won’t come off. I put my glasses on, it was the dial’s flame arrow. I’m such a dumbass. I spent over 2 minutes scrubbing that fucking arrow.

I put a load of clothes in the washing machine. Added some items to the grocery list. Started my own. You’d be proud of me. You used to text yourself your grocery list. Always on your list was my green grapes and cheese. My nightly snack. You introduced me to so many different types of cheeses. But you knew the ones I liked the most. You always made sure I was taken care of. All my needs, all my loves, all my hates, you knew me inside and out. You applauded my successes and embraced my failures. You were never afraid. You always supported me. You knew I’d bail us out. You put your complete faith in me. I always hoped I delivered before we parted.

I go to our bathroom to clean the mess Bella and her girlfriends left behind. They were polishing each others’ nails, ironing their hair, dancing and singing in our bathroom, all 8 of them. We should have had parties held in our bathroom. I had no idea you could have a party in a bathroom. Who knew? I had parties in kitchens, garages, basements, living rooms, pool rooms, roofs, front yard, back yard, but never in a bathroom. FML. I am doomed.
I always wondered, if her twin that she devoured in your womb would have survived, would there have been two Bellas? I don’t believe I’d be prepared to handle two of her. I don’t believe the world is prepared to handle two of her. She’s fierce, strong willed. Great, I don’t get the mousey daughter, I get the lioness type, with brass balls.
I should be hailed as a Saint when I finally die. Saint V. Father of She Devil.

I love her. I love her so much. She’s fucking awesome. I love her dare. I love her sass. I love her self-confidence. Bitch is going places. I love it.

The Devil and I had a talk once while driving. We talked about her career. I asked her what she would love to do. She told me she wanted to study fashion and become a fashion designer. A high-end fashion designer nonetheless. You go girl. I hope you’re the biggest one in the world. I will be by your side helping you if you need me to. Or find your own path my baby. Find your greatness.
We were on our way to buy you your Christmas gifts. We went to KOP to get you a few things you loved from your favorite brands but never would buy for yourself. You always felt bad. You were so humble. That’s why I showered you with all these gifts. You never asked for them. You never did seek them. They weren’t going to make you any better of a mother or a wife or a lover or a best friend. You didn’t care about your possessions. You loved having them when you received them. You knew your shit, and you taught Bella well.
I told Bella she needed a name for her brand. We were brainstorming her name. I threw “Issa Mar”. I started talking in the voice of a shallow woman proudly announcing to her girlfriends she just bought herself an Issa Mar handbag.
I had her logo design in my mind. I had her entire campaign in my mind. Asked her to start using that brand name. Change your Social Media accounts to “Issa Mar”. Build your name baby.
She laughed at me. “You’re nuts dad.”
She did like the name though. She had a big smile on her face that day. I was so proud of her. She knows what she loves already. And she’s great at it. Doing what you love and being great at it is like nothing else. It’s the winning combination.

Back to cleaning the bathroom. I found this piece of paper laying on your side of the sink island.

I opened it up and started to read. The first line said: Dear Mom,

It was the speech she wanted to have at your luncheon but never had the chance.

I stopped reading immediately. I folded it back and laid it on our bed for when I write to you at night. I want to write it down and read it to you for the first time as I read and type along.

So here it goes:

Dear Mom,

I’m gonna… [Stop, I can’t do this to Bella. I can’t share her letter with the public. I too will wait until she shares it on her own time.]

I’m exhausted.

Good night my sweet.

Love you,

Me