Gail Cawley Showalter

I wanted to move to Austin. I spent the entire following summer working on getting another job, a job out of the classroom. I had a Master’s Degree and hoped it would open doors. Nothing. Not one interview. To say I was discouraged is an understatement.

I could have given up at that point. I could’ve said, “Maybe this isn’t meant to be.” My desire to prove the test wrong was as strong as my desire to achieve something that would change my life. I had a brief meeting with the dean as a formality.

“Joy to the World” was playing on the car radio, but I did not feel any joy in my world. It was five days before Christmas – the first Christmas since my divorce and the first one I would spend without my children.

My knees buckled with fear, as I scooped up his drooping body, and carried him to the car. His thin limbs spread out on the car seat like a worn-out stuffed toy.

The divorce was finalized in early October. I was drained physically and emotionally.

My knees buckled with fear, as I scooped up his drooping body, and carried him to the car. His thin limbs spread out on the car seat like a worn-out stuffed toy.

I remember the day. I wore a dress my mother had made. I looked simple, thin, and frail, nothing flashy or sexy about me.

I’m sharing my letter that will give insight to all dads with little girls.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Bob would say every night as his head hit the pillow. I had to trust him. Trust became more and more difficult as he and Cassie were going to Houston together every day.