Somebody asked me recently, “So, Mark, what was your greatest accomplishment as a parent?”

It took about 3 seconds to come up with the answer. It involved my adopted daughter, Isabella.

I was in my early 40’s and my wife Cleo was in her late 30’s. We realized it was getting a bit late to start thinking about kids but when we finally decided to give it a go, we found out that we were unable to have children of our own. We were devastated, but eventually we knew that we had to adopt.

Then Isabella came into our lives, and she brought us so much joy and happiness. She made us complete. I just adored her. So did her mom.

Izzy’s adoption had never really been much of an issue. We never lied to her about it; she knew she was adopted and I thought she had a very healthy attitude about the whole thing. It just wasn’t something we talked about much.

This incident happened when she was at that awkward age, I wanna say around 16 or 17.

I came home from work one day and the house was unnaturally quiet. Cleo told me in hushed tones that Izzy had come home from school crying because some stupid kids were making fun of her because she was adopted.

I’m like, “Oh jeez, seriously? God, children are so vicious…!”

Cleo nodded slowly.

“What else did she say?” I asked.

“She won’t talk to me..!” Cleo threw her hands up in exasperation.

I pouted at her like I always did when she got sad and I pulled her toward me. I gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. Then I slowly crept upstairs to Izzy’s room.

I knocked softly on her door.

“Izzy, can I come in?”

“If you want to…” I heard her say quietly.

“Thanks…” I turned around and shut the door behind me.

Izzy was sitting on her bed, facing the window, her left hand clutching a soaked ball of tissue to her nose. Next to her sat her ever-attentive black cat, Mojo.

I sat on the far corner of the bed. Izzy kept her gaze focused on the trees outside her window. It was a windy day, and the branches swayed back and forth, casting a shadow play across her room. I imagined that was probably a reflection of how she was feeling inside.

“So, your mom told me some kids at school were making fun of you because you’re adopted…”

She nodded her head.

“Sheesh…” I shook my head slowly in disgust. “Can I just tell you something, Izzy? I don’t know if I ever told you this before, but you saved my life. I know your mom feels the same way, too…”

Again, she nods.

“Your mother and I were happy together before you came into our life, but eventually we could see that there was this gigantic hole that we needed to fill. We found out we couldn’t have children of our own so there was no question that we would adopt. But it had to be under the right circumstances, and just the right…everything…”

I looked around her tidy little room for the right words to say.

“But the first time we laid eyes on you, your mother and I knew instantly that you were our baby…” I said quietly but firmly. “There was never any question. But it’s funny – I thought that day in the hospital was the happiest day of my life…but there have been so many ‘happiest days’ since then…you know..?”

I paused for a moment. I knew I was making progress. Feeling more confident.

“Most parents don’t get to choose their children. You know? We were so lucky, Iz… Unfortunately, a lot of kids are accidents. Lots of times they are unwanted. Sometimes the children and the parents don’t get along. Sometimes the parents never should have had children in the first place. But then again, sometimes the children are just assholes…”

Izzy snorted into her tissue. I was starting to get through. I rarely cursed around Isabella. She appreciated the sentiment.

“But since I met you, you’ve made every single day an absolute joy. I couldn’t be prouder of you, and you have grown up to become such a wonderful person. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re funny. You’ve never been any trouble at all…”

Izzy’s hand began creeping toward mine as she gazed intently out the window. I reached out and held it. Together we just sat there in the fading light with Mojo purring between us, squeezing each other’s hands as tight as we dared.

Finally, I mustered the courage and just blurted it out:

“And besides, fuck those kids, anyway! Who gives a shit what they think!”

That was all it took. The floodgates opened. Izzy turned around and embraced me fully. I pulled her toward me, and I squeezed her with all my might. We held each other and cried for what seemed like an hour. I stroked her back softly up and down as we sobbed, and then very tenderly, Izzy began stroking my back, too. As if she were reassuring me.

I felt like the greatest father in the world at that point.

And all it took was a little ‘strategic cursing’, as I would joke many years later…

That was my greatest ever moment as a parent. But the story didn’t end there.

The shadows had grown long across the room.

I started to get up so she could be alone with Mojo, but Izzy pulled me back down and held me at arm’s length.

She gave me that coy look of hers. Her swollen, red eyes twinkled. “Dad, are you sure I was the right choice..?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding? How dare you say such a thing?” I said in mock disgust. Then I paused for a moment, turned my head and held my chin and squinted as if deep in thought. “Uh, meh, oh, on the other hand, I dunno, let me think about it..!”

We both burst out laughing. I hugged her; she hugged me back. We laughed until we cried again.

From that day forward, Izzy and I just clicked. We bonded. We were always best friends, no matter what. I felt so honored. She would tell me things she couldn’t talk about with her mother. We became almost psychic. She was definitely able to read my mind; I don’t know how good I really was with her.

She grew up to be a wonderful young lady; went to school, managed to make it through college without being assaulted or raped. Izzy was always a smart girl and very attentive to her surroundings. And she was lucky as hell.

She got a degree and became a Vet Tech and met her life partner, Carlos. He worshiped the ground Izzy walked on, and he treated her like the princess she certainly was.

They were so happy together and they were so healthy. They loved jogging and riding bikes together. They raised a couple of kittens, and then they decided to raise a human family.

They had two beautiful girls, Valerie and Jennifer, who made their lives complete. They would all go jogging together and ride bikes in their matching gear. They were so cute! They wanted to take the cats with them, but the cats were certainly much happier at home.

It was an idyllic time. We would go on camping trips together and sometimes we’d spend a weekend at some ritzy resort and hang out at the hot tub and eat sushi.

We felt so fortunate to have time to spend as a family. For my birthday one year they presented me with a new kitten, who I named Tiki Paganini. The girls loved it! He turned out to be a great companion.

But then, like everything in life, eventually it all turns to shit.

After the diagnosis, we all vowed to live every day with Izzy as if it were our last day together. We did manage for the most part. The girls were just incredible, so sweet and kind. Carlos was a rock. They were so brave and I don’t think Cleo and I could’ve made it without their invaluable help and love and support.

It became more difficult near the end, but she was surrounded by love, and the whole family was with her when she passed. The cats were at her feet. They watched her spirit leave her body…

Even though I still had Cleo and Carlos and the girls, I fell into a deep, dark hole after I lost Izzy. I went to a very dark place, and I never thought I’d make it back. I started drinking again every night and I was becoming intolerable to Cleo.

Eventually they all did an intervention. My wonderful family rented a cabin in a beautiful alpine valley up in Colorado, and over the course of a week we all reconnected. I realized how lucky I was. I vowed to quit drinking [I’m still sober..!] and we agreed that when we got back home, we’d meet three days a week to have our “crying days.” We stuck to our plan for many years. Eventually, over time they became “ZOOM crying days,” and there was less crying and more laughing. We still invoked Isabella’s name every time we met. Her memory will live on through us.

I am grateful to have some sort of peace of mind now, but sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I go down to the basement and I still curse this miserable world with every fiber of my being. I curse all the fucking doctors and all the fucking pharmacists and ‘Health Maintenance’ fuckers and all the fucking politicians, and all the other evil fuckers in the world.

Why do they still walk this Earth when my beautiful daughter has been gone for over a decade?

Fucking why, why, why, why?

And then Tiki Paganini jumps into my lap and starts kneading my belly. The pain is so sweet.