Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye…The island feels different without my dad. When we came here for our three weeks every summer, just the two of us, we’d stay in the little fishing shack right down by the water, curling up in sleeping bags on musty blown-up air mattresses…Every night, before we went to sleep, Dad and I would lie on our backs in the long sweet grass beside the shack and watch the sky, and he’d point out the constellations…This summer was my mom’s idea. I didn’t want to come, but she said it would make me feel less lonely for Dad…And you have a job to do there, she’d said with a stern look, as if I could ever forget what my dad had asked me to do.