One of the most mortifying experiences a parent can endure is that of the perception by one's child that they have been abandoned by their parent. In twelve years of raising children I had been fortunate enough to avoid this perception. Until today.
Due to a communication breakdown between their mother and I, I was working away at the office (very common on Thursdays as I don't usually have the kids) when, at about a quarter after six, my phone rang. Shelby's school aftercare was on the line, and they wanted to know if anyone would be picking Shelby up today, as they closed at six.
Imagine the whole of your centers of fortitude losing all understanding of solidity. That would approach the sensation I felt at that moment. The next few moments involved fervent near-swearing and a crazy fast exit from the building while trying to reach my ex-wife to determine where I had gone wrong in my understanding of the sequence of the day.
After determining the majority of the fault to be my own, I scolded myself the entire duration of the drive to save Shelby from parental ambiguity. For her part, Shelby knew exactly what to say upon my arrival, those dreaded worst words...
"Daddy, you forgot me."
Ugh. A second time I died this day. And again I shall, each time she brings it up in the future. For no matter the length or depth of my explanation, no matter how sorrowful the apology, always in her memory this will be the day I forgot her. The day she wondered if I would ever come.
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