Excuse me, sir—I’m sorry, do you mind if I sit? Hm? Oh! No, please, go right ahead. There's plenty of room. I appreciate it. The water looks beautiful from here this time of day. I hope I’m not disturbing you. Not at all. I know what you mean. It’s a great spot, isn’t it? It’s the best. Do you live nearby? I do. My house is just over there—the blue one. No kidding! The one with the white deck? That’s the one. It’s where I grew up. Wow. I have to tell you… My wife, she just loves your house. Aw, does she? Oh, yes. She’s been admiring it for years, right from this very bench.  That is really nice to hear. She especially loves the deck—the way it stretches out over the ocean. That is my favorite part of the house, too. The view still leaves me breathless some mornings. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.  Oh, I can imagine. My wife, she has always loved the ocean. She believes the only cure for a restless mind is the sea—as if the tides can pull away the weight of worry.  If she ever needs cheering up, I bring her straight here. Works every time. You ought to see how she lights right up—bright as a diamond!  That is beautiful. Your wife and I have that in common. Ah, another fish, I take it? Well, you’re very lucky, Miss. Living right on the water like that must be a dream. If my wife had a view like that, I'd likely never get her to come inside! Yes, I'm sure! Do you guys live close by? Our house is about a mile from here. It’s a bit of a hike, but we don’t mind. We make every effort to come as often as we can. These days, it seems my feet know the way better than I do. I know what you mean. Yes. We’ve made many memories here. Countless sunsets—even a sunrise or two. It’s a great spot, isn’t it? It’s the best. So where is she today, your wife?  Oh, well, she… She is at home with our daughter, I suppose. My wife isn't really up to walking much these days. She has… she's been sick. Oh? Is she okay? Well, no. No, not really. My wife, she’s… well, she has cancer. Oh, I… I’m so sorry. Is it serious? Well, yes. Yes, I’m afraid it is. She was diagnosed not long after our daughter was born, and she fought with everything she had. After that, we even believed we were in the clear. But then… well, she began to feel off again. She was having some aches and fatigue, just little things, but she knew. I am sure that she knew, even before the doctors confirmed. Unfortunately, it’s… worse, much worse this time around. The doctors… they tried everything, but… well, she doesn’t have long now, I’m afraid. I… I am so deeply sorry. I didn’t mean to— No, no, it’s okay, really. How could you have known? Still, I am terribly sorry to hear it. Thank you, miss. She is handling it well—far better than I am. Somehow, she seems to have made peace with it. She’s a strong one, my girl. Fought like hell for many years. She sounds like an incredible woman. Oh, she is. She's the best wife a man could ever have—and an even better mother. I don't know if I… well, I don’t know what I’ll do. When she’s gone, I mean. She does everything for our daughter. Absolutely everything. I see… I… I just worry for my little girl. I fear I might not be enough. I understand. Please, forgive me, I… I don’t know what’s come over me—unloading on you like this. There is no need to apologize. I understand. No child should have to lose their mother, especially at so young an age. Yes… too young. …Can I tell you something? Of course, please do. When I say I understand, it is because I genuinely do. I also lost my mother when I was just a little girl.   Oh… oh dear. I'm deeply sorry to hear that, Miss. Was she ill? She had cancer, too. Oh, that is awful. Just awful. It must have been so difficult for you. It was. I was angry for a long time. I struggled to accept it, struggled with my faith, struggled with most things, really. I can imagine. You were just a child, after all. It wasn’t easy. If you don't mind me saying, you seem like a lovely young woman. Can I assume things turned out okay for you? That is very kind, thank you. And yes, they did. But I was lucky. Lucky? How do you mean? My Dad. Your Dad? Yes. You see, he lost the love of his life, the woman he had wanted to marry since he was just a kid. He was devastated. But even on his hardest days, he got up. He made me breakfast, helped me with my homework, and even learned how to braid my hair.  Ahh, braids. Those are tricky. You will learn. I just want to do right by her. No, I want to do more than that. I want her to have everything—everything her mother would have given her. And you worry that she won’t? Well, yes. She is just so young—her mother is her entire world. I worry about how she will remember all of this. Will she remember her mother as the beautiful woman who raised her—the woman who sang her to sleep every night—or…  this version? She will remember the mother she had. She’ll remember the smell of her hair and how it felt to hug her. She will ask you questions, and you will tell her stories. You will help her remember. I truly hope you're right. All I can do is pray that she comes through this as well as you have. She will. My dad worried, too. Like you, he constantly wondered how he could make up for what I’d lost—how he could make it all okay. How… how did he do it? Make it all okay, I mean?  After my mother died, he was heartbroken. He loved her so much; I don’t think he ever stopped. He carried that pain with him every single day. But the thing is, I never knew it. I never saw it, never felt its weight. All I knew was that my dad took care of me. He never gave up on me, even when I became angry and unruly. He was always there, carrying it all so I wouldn't have to. Your father sounds like a wonderful man. He is the best father a girl could have. Because of him, the last year of my mother’s life was her best. We were able to move into the house of her dreams because he made it happen. We spent her final nights together, laughing and drinking tea out on the deck—right over the ocean—all because of him. And when the time came, she left this world happy, warm in her bed by the sea. And I survived it. Because he is my father. …Thank you. Thank you, Miss, for sharing this with me. I truly hope that I can do the same—for my little girl, I mean. You will. Do you really think so? I know so. How… how could you know? Because you already have, Dad. I have? Yes. You gave me everything. I’m okay. I... I’m terribly sorry. Lately, I... Well, I have been a bit confused. It’s okay, Daddy. My… My little girl. She’s... She is okay? Yes. She is more than okay. Because of you. Me? You. I think… I think I did my best. I think I tried to do my best. But you see, my wife… Well, she was the anchor. Without her, it seems I’ve begun to drift. It’s okay, Dad. I know you’re scared—afraid you might forget. You feel scattered, like the pieces are slipping away. I think you’ve been searching for them here, reaching back to this point in time for those pieces, maybe sometimes getting a little lost trying to find them. But you don’t have to be afraid. Because I will always find you. I will meet you here every day, right on this bench. I will sit with you, talk with you, and pull you back in if you start to drift. You don’t need to carry it all alone, not anymore. I will be here, just as you were for me. I will help you remember. I... I wait for her here…, don’t I? For my little girl—I wait for her here, on the bench. Every day. I will always come for you, Dad. And when you’re ready, I will walk you home. Home? Yes. It isn't far from here. No? Not at all. It’s just over there, see? The blue one with the white deck. You look just like her, you know. Like your mother. I know, Daddy. She loved this place. It’s a great spot, isn’t it?  It’s the best.

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