Slugabed, donnybrook, and littoral

You used to be such a pain to take to the lake, the letter began.

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Sarah was the one who decided we should go. She and I used to play there long ago, back when we were teenagers in Discovery, and she wanted you girls to know it too. In a way, that was where y'all were born.

Not even Emily was excited about driving an hour every Sunday morning to Discovery -- and she wondered what would happen to our souls now that we were abandoning church services. But your mother insisted that this was a better way of worship. "God has already told me everything," she said. "He understands that I need y'all more than he does right now."

I let her sleep in while I went to wake you girls up. The first time I thought I'd have to knock you out and carry you to the car. You kicked and screamed like a mad dog, though I think now it's because I interrupted some scary dream. Later on you were only grumpy and sullen, but that was normal for you.

"Five more minutes," you mumbled from under a hot dog bun of covers. Your leg poked out like a stringy onion.

Just like your mother, you always took longer than you said but less time than I expected. It was a maddening trait, but how could I be upset? I was happy to know that you would always share that with her.

Finally, after a long morning of grumbling and waiting, we got into the van and drove to Lake Caron. Like Sarah remembered, that place had a touch of magic, and even on your worst days, you and Emily had fun. Maybe it was like Sarah said: God knew she needed us, and so He made sure we gave the best of ourselves to her.

For five months this was our weekend ritual. What we didn't tell you was that those would be the last five months of your mother's life. We didn't want you girls to be scared. We thought we were doing what every parent should: protecting you. But when she was gone, I had no one to help me, no one to share the burden of protecting, decision-making, raising. Loving. And I guess my heart got scared -- like being surprised in the middle of a bad dream, it kicked and screamed. I know I was never the same after she died. I know I wasn't a good father to you.

I'm sorry.