Always Leave with I Love You

When my daughter Tess turned two years old, she quickly got into the stage of talking -- and she has never stopped.

She was no longer just repeating phrases.  She knew when to say thank you, when to say please.  She knew when to ask for what she wanted – and unfortunately she knew when to scream and whine, too [At age 10 today, she is still pretty good on the "please," and she can still whine with the best of them].

A Late Night Visit

One night, when I was typing away and working in the basement at about 10 p.m., this little toddler came downstairs.  She was still in the mode of coming down one stair at a time on her butt.

As she got to the bottom, I said, “Hi, Tess,” to my little surprise guest.

“I want you, Daddy” was the reply.  She came over sat in my lap and we talked a bit.  I showed her what I was doing, and when she couldn’t play on or crash the computer herself, she became bored (a trait she inherited from her mother), and said, “I want Momma.”

So I told her Mommy was upstairs and she waddled back to the stairs.  She got to the bottom of the stairs and turned to me and said, “Bye, Daddy.”

I said, “Good night, Tess.  I love you.”

12 Steps to a Father's Heart

What happened next was one of those moments you know is a treasure for the memory bank.  It wasn’t something they would play on “America’s Funniest Home Videos” or that would win an Oscar for “Best Short Film,” but it was a moment I recognized then as a memory I would want to capture and replay in my head on days in the future – days when she would be mad at me, or when she would leave for college, or be walking down the aisle at her wedding.

Tess grabbed the banister and walked up one step.  Then she turned her head and yelled in that sweet Tess, child-like voice, “Good night, Daddy.  I love you.” And I said, “I love you, too.”

And then she went up the next step, and turned and said, “Good night, Daddy.  I love you,” and I responded.  Each step another turn, another sweet message.

There were 12 steps from our basement to the first floor in that house, and 12 times Tess grabbed a little piece of her father's heart in a way only a daughter can.

The truth is exits can be tough, but there aren't many better ways to leave a room than with a heartfelt "I Love You."

I remember that night I woke up at 4 a.m. from a dead sleep and went back to the basement.  I typed the original version of this essay that late night, hoping to capture for myself and for her – one moment, one memory that might last forever.  On that night, I could still turn and look at those stairs, walk into her room and see her in those blue pajamas and hear her sweet voice.  Today, it is a fading memory that I hold in my heart and in these words.

“Good night, Daddy.  I love you.”

“l love you, too, Tessie.” …  And I always will.

Editor's Note: This post is based on a series of essays I wrote from 2005 to 2009 and updated for Truth Is...