Michelle walks through the front door with Danny, and she glances around the room at so many strange faces. She has no idea who I am or that I've helped raise her. How do I tell Michelle about all of our special times together without it breaking my heart?
I remember the first time Jesse and I changed Michelle's diaper. We discovered our incompetency as first-time parents as we rinsed her off in the sink and wrapped her up in paper towels, only to be handed diapers after the fact by five-year-old Stephanie.
I think about that hockey game I played when Michelle was absolutely convinced that I was Muttman, and the only way I could prove otherwise was not to play rough out on the ice. My lousy playing was costing my team the game. Only after I explained to Michelle that it wasn't okay for me to play "like a weenie" any more than it was to play "like a meanie" did she agree that I needed to take it up a notch and play somewhere in the middle. As I skated around the rink with Michelle on my shoulders after I made the winning shot, she leaned in close enough to tell me she loved me.
The time I taught her to ride a two-wheeler comes to mind. Michelle was so determined not to get back on after she fell off and landed in that stupid bush. I don't even remember what I said to her, but somehow I convinced her to give her bike, not to mention me, a second chance. Boy, am I glad she did.
I also think about Super Bowl Sunday, when Jesse and I were supposed to take her science club on a field trip. Instead, I dragged Michelle and her friends to a pool hall so I could watch the game. I ended up ruining her day before realizing how selfish I'd been.
I've never been a religious man, but as she glances at me again, I pray to God that Michelle's memory comes back soon, because I love her like she was my own. The thought of her not knowing who any of us are just about kills me, and I have no idea how long my heart will be able to take that blank, questioning look on her face. I don't know what I would give up just to see her smile again, to hear her say she loves me. And even though I know it isn't my fault she lost her memory, I really wish I could give it back to her. This must be what a broken heart feels like....