He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could. She hadn’t let him hug her like that in ages. Since she was about fifteen years old and decided she was too cool for such types of fatherly affection. But today, she let him. She could feel his shoulders shaking with sobs, and wet tears falling onto her head. She wanted to be able to rub his back, kiss his forehead, and tell him it was going to be alright. But she knew all too well that it wasn’t going to be alright. And so did he. So she couldn’t bring herself to say even the most basic of hopeful lies.
“I don’t want you to go.” He said softly.
“I don’t want to go.” She replied honestly, not sure if that was going to help the situation or make it worse. “But we both know I have to. Things will get much worse, very quickly, if I don’t.”
“I know, I know. Angel. I love you, Mikey, I love you so very, very much.”
“I know, Dad. I love you too.”