I wish you wouldn’t cry. I’ve always hated the sight of your tears. I remember years ago when you were just a toddler, your mother and I took you to Sea World to see the dolphins, and you laughed and laughed during the show. But as soon as the show was over, we took you back through the aquarium and you saw one of the dolphins behind a cage. Oh Lord, the tears that came out of you that day. _Daddy, they shouldn’t keep a dolphin behind a cage. He should be out there in the ocean with his family. _I tried to explain that the dolphin had been hurt and that’s why they had taken it from the ocean, but that didn’t matter to you. You wailed. You insisted that the dolphin needed its family, and you wanted us to do something right then to rescue Flipper. We had to promise you that we would come back the next week to make sure the dolphin was back home. Thankfully, you must have forgotten because I don’t know what we would have done. Your mother and I never sent you on any of the school field trips to the zoo because we were afraid you would have that same reaction with your teachers. It sure was something.

 Seeing you cry today isn’t any easier, my darling. Especially when there’s nothing to be done to console you. I watch as you hunch your body over, holding your guts as if you may lose control of them at any moment. That boy you’ve been seeing—what’s his name?—Anthony—Tony—he hands you a handkerchief. There’s something good to be said for him at least. He came prepared and didn’t let my daughter cry in disposable tissue. That’s a good fella for you. Your mother is holding a whole box of them, and it really isn’t very becoming, though I could never hold it against her, I’m sure you know. I should have been the one to make sure she was prepared, but…

 Circumstances as they are, I understand her lack of forethought.