Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

She would have known

WEDNESDAY, March 3  –  Parent-teacher conferences at school. I feel awkward and self-conscious sitting at the table, on a stool that’s much too small for an adult. My presence here alone, is painful; especially since during our talk, with my son at my side, I can no longer fall back on Jennifer.

She would have known exactly what to say. She would have been familiar with the method the teachers were using and where there was room for improvement. Now I’m responsible. The teacher’s looking at me and so is Eamonn.

I choose the path of least resistance and stammer: ‘And what do you think yourself, son?’ because I,  for one,  am totally blank.

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