"I'm sorry." She coos, rubbing my head softly.
This should be one of the rare times my mum hugs me soothingly and it's not because she doesn't want to, it's because I don't want to.
I don't want to be pitied or treated in such a sympathetic way because I feel like I have to be strong just because my dad was a strong man.
"It's okay. I feel better telling you of how many nights I cried just thinking about him." I sob.
But now, I can see that it doesn't really matter. I'm who I am and I don't need to be strong when I'm weak. I can acknowledge the fact that I'm hurt and walk through it, not running away from it and claiming to be strong.
"Oh no, don't cry." She tries to comfort me, but hearing her tell me not to cry makes me cry more.
"Remember when you used to get calls about me getting in trouble at school?"
"Hm-mm." She nods.
"I did all that just to get my mind off him."