"I've missed you," the little girl said.

 

"I've missed you too, sweet pea," replied the man.

 

Father and daughter were gently swinging back and forth on the wooden swing set that they had built together as a family. The little girl noticed the engraving on the wooden beam to her left. Her father had carved their names along with her mother's name when they had finished building the swing set.

 

"That was a great day," the little girl said as she continued to gaze at the wooden memento. Her father looked over at her and saw what was holding her attention.

 

"It sure was," her father agreed.

 

"I remember we laughed a lot when you tried to push Mommy and me at the same time on our swings," the little girl shared with a beaming smile. "Then I tried to push you but I said you were heavy like ..."

 

"The rocks in our garden," her father finished as he chuckled and the little girl giggled.

 

The smile on the little girl's face was suddenly replaced by a sad, mournful expression. "Mommy stopped swinging with me. I think it hurts her because you don't live with us anymore."

 

Her father tried to maintain his composure as he choked back tears. He then turned towards her while still sitting on his swing and said to her in that familiar, comforting voice, "I'm sorry, sweet pea. Mommy will swing with you one day. She is just taking some time to figure out how to do it without me because we both know I was the best swinger. After you of course."

 

A smile slowly started to find its way back to the little girl's face. Her father continued, "Just because I'm not here anymore doesn't mean I'm gone. I'm like those carvings next to you. You don't see them every day but they are always there. OK, sweet pea?"

 

"OK," the little girl answered. Any trace of sadness was erased from her face.

 

"And can you tell Mommy that it wasn't her fault?" her father asked.

 

"I will," the little girl responded as she began swinging a little faster now.

 

"Who are you talking to, sweetheart?" The little girl's mother stood behind her wearing a confused expression. 

 

The little girl pointed to the swing on her right and said as plain as day, "I'm talking to Daddy." 

 

Her mother, still rooted to the same spot, looked at the empty swing next to her daughter as tears began to form in her eyes.

 

"He said it wasn't your fault," the little girl relayed to her mother as she continued to swing.

 

The tears now began to trickle down her mother's face. She proceeded to wipe them away with the right sleeve of her jacket. She then finally abandoned the closest spot to the swing set that she could physically and emotionally walk to these past few months.  

 

The little girl looked at her mother swinging next to her. She started to laugh as if her father was pushing her and her mother one more time.