“What’s his name again?”

This evening before bed, my daughter and I were talking in her room. Somehow we got on the topic of her father, who she hasn’t seen or heard from since June of 2021. 

She asked me, “What was his name again?”

I don’t know who to feel more sorry for. The man that doesn’t know how amazing his daughter is, or my baby, who doesn’t even know her own daddy’s name at the age of 9.

I hope that you see this. I hope you feel what you’ve done, every day for the rest of your miserable life.

His name was Pierluigi Scotto di Carlo. I wish that I could forget it too.

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