"Are you bad, dad?"

It's always a hard day. 

Visiting her mother. 

My wife. 

I think it will get easier. 

It never does. 

Our bouquet is important. Angelica flowers, Apple blossoms, and Bay Tree blossoms.

The wind and the rain loom over us. 

But not yet. 

We lay the bouquet down, and I take my daughter's hand. 

"Dad?" she asked. 

"What's up, kiddo?" I said. 

"The kids at school say you are a bad man," she said. 

I knelt down and looked her right in the eyes. "They are right, I am a bad man, and I have done bad things," and hugged her and told her this:

"You aren't a bad thing, you are the best ever. You are everything good about me. You are all the good I've ever done and, you are a good person, with a whole heart and spirit. You are my child, and whatever happens? I'm here. I'm your dad, even if everyone says I'm bad. Okay?" 

Her whole body shook, and she fell into me. 

I didn't know. How could I know?

What horrible things they said to her to make her shake so bad like a kitten in a blizzard. 

How much could I love her? How much was a willing to do if I wanted a better tomorrow for her. 

How much was I willing to give? 

This is how I found out.