A dad couldn’t ask for more. My daughter wrote an essay, “The Best Dad in the Whole World.” It went on, story after story, about the unforgettable things we did together.
Here’s a few seconds from the poem she added:
The last thing she wrote to me, this year, was, “I don’t have a single happy memory from my childhood.”
And she had a court change her last name.
When does the unforgettable get forgotten?
And will the forgotten be remembered again?
Investigative reporters are supposed to have answers.
Today, I only have questions.