I sat on the grass in the garden, feeling the weight of embarrassment settle heavily on my shoulders. My daughter sat beside me, her presence a silent comfort. I had cried in front of her, and the vulnerability of that moment left me feeling exposed and ashamed.
I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze, afraid of what I might see. I still can't believe that I had cried in front of her and allowed myself to be so vulnerable and weak. I had never wanted her to see me cry, to witness me in such a raw and emotional state.
As we sat in silence, neither of us saying a word, I could feel her gaze on me. She seemed to understand my turmoil, my embarrassment at having let my emotions get the best of me.
Cyril had comforted me, held me close while I mourned and she repeatedly assured me that what I had done wasn't at all my fault. I couldn't have been more blessed to have a daughter like her. I tried to keep my composure, to hold back the tears threatening to spill over once again.
