A Note from Al to His Daughter

As I write this note, you are spending the night with your mom.  Tomorrow evening I will read it to you, even though you won't hear me.  You are special needs.  You lost your hearing while you were an infant.  And then you started losing your sight.  Yet, you show a determination and effort that few can match even with your diminutive size.  Despite your daily tribulations, you go about your day with royal aplomb, befitting your nickname, "The Princess".

Your sister and you loved each other dearly.  Her loss was devastating to us all.  I had no idea how to communicate this to you. Then one day you walked to her picture, stroked it gently, and looked to me for an answer.  Through my tears I could only shake my head no, and hug you.

As time progressed, we carried on our activities.  On a trip to the mountains for a picnic and swim, you gave up the copilot seat for "C" who had come along for the day.  After our picnic, you took him by the hand and led him on a walk around the pond.  He turned back to look at me, and I told him, "Just follow along, she'll lead you".  And you did.  I'm almost sure that if you could speak, I would have had cause to be embarrassed.

Once safely home, ensconced safely in our spots on the couch, and C sitting across the room, you got up, went to him, and lead him back to sit beside me and put our hands together. Then you went and sat across the room by yourself while we sat with our mouths open.

You've never heard the word "hate."  The time I spend with you gives a glimpse into what a world without hate would look like.  You show not only how important love is, but how unimportant it is who we love.

You are a princess. You are special. I love you dearly.

Dad