part one
I didn’t know why he did it; not then anyway. Now, after all of the emails and questions that I knew would never be answered, and the confusion and long-distance phone calls, I’m grateful. I’ve learned a lot from those emails, you know. More than I ever imagined.

eight years earlier

I knew the day of his funeral would be hard, but I didn’t think it would be that hard. “He” is my dad, but he is also my best friend; Dad was the only person who could calm me down. There was never a doubt in my mind that he wasn’t doing everything he could to help me. When I was in elementary school, I would have “fits”; at least that’s what Dad and I called them. The worst one was in fifth grade. I hadn’t gotten used to the concept of groups, cliques, and “the mean ones.” The girls would whisper about me, but I didn’t know what whispering was until that day. This day I’m referring to was my worst day ever, except for the day of Dad’s funeral. I had finally figured out what it was to whisper; Dad told me in the car on the way to school. I didn’t mind when the mean ones would whisper and point at my hearing aids; they did it to everyone, but today it was different. My best friends, Callie and Quinn always stood up for me, but something had changed over the summer. They had stopped including me, and stopped replying to my texts. I acted like I didn’t mind, but I really did. Normally at lunch, they would talk out loud, not cover their faces or turn their backs. I got good at reading expressions. I knew when to laugh and when to frown and so on. This day though, they covered their mouths and giggled to themselves. They had come to understand my basic words, I really did try to talk, but it was so, so difficult to make people understand. I asked them to tell me, to even stop turning away, to stop, but nothing changed. By the end of lunch, I was nearly in tears. That was when the unspeakable began. I cried and spilled things and knocked things over and screamed. Callie, normally very timid, was yelling at me, “Belle, enough!” and “Belle, stop that!” It made me even more mad, while Quinn, normally very outspoken, sat there and did nothing except giggle and make faces. The teacher assistants had to practically drag me out of the lunchroom. Dad picked me up an hour later. I had just calmed down. As soon as he gave me a hug and said his usual, “Lovebug...”, a new flood of tears came out. These tears turned into sobs, and they didn’t stop for a long time.

Enough of this, today’s not his funeral and not the day of that awful fit. I don’t need to keep bothering myself with this painful memory; it’s been eight years since fifth grade. We’re packing up his belongings today. “We” is his attorney and me. Mom didn’t come, but I didn’t expect her to, she hasn’t ever said a word to me; at least that I remember. She left as soon as she and Dad found out I was deaf. I had just began moving things to my dorm when I came back. Next year is my first year of college and I’m not sure if I’m excited or not. I have already decided that I’m going to work in child protection services and with adoption; I want every child to be able to have someone as great as my Dad. We’re just getting rid of junk right now, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about all the great memories in all of these items and which of them will be mine. I really do hope I get his leather armchair. It is, in a way, my security blanket.

When we finally sit down at Dad’s old scratched coffee table, the attorney pulls out the documents. He hands me Dad’s will. I scanned to where I saw my name, Belle Roberts.

I give all my furniture and special dishes to my daughter, Belle Roberts, along with an email address. You will find this address along with the password, taped to the inside of the top left kitchen cabinet. Open the email account when you are ready. All of my other possessions may be thrown away.

MATTHEW ROBERTS
I walk very quickly to the top left cabinet and take every cup down without thinking. In the back of the cabinet I find a small scrap of paper with his usual chicken scratch writing on it:
email: belleroberts@gmail.com
password: lovebug
open when you’re ready, lovebug, I love you.


“Do you know what this means?” I have to write it on a piece of paper so the attorney, Mr. Jackson, can understand me. He’s very nice, but he doesn’t understand my words, no one does. Mr. Jackson shakes his head, and he looks as confused as I feel. He tries to take it out of my hand, but for some reason I don’t want him to read it. It feels like my final piece of my Dad; the last thing I can remember him by. I try to say no, I always wonder what it sounds like. He backs off and reverts back to boxing things up. The whole time we were finishing packing up, I am itching to open that email account. When I finally sat down at Dad’s ancient Dell computer, I log onto the account and type in the email and password, but I can’t bring myself to click submit. After getting a cup of tea and organizing the boxes to be thrown away, I finally am able to bring myself to click submit. What I read in that inbox, I know, will change my life forever.


part two

June 6, 2003
Belle,

I’ve decided to do these to help you as you grow up. You just finished fifth grade, and it was definitely not your best year. You came home crying a lot. I’m not sure what happened to Callie and Quinn, but who cares? If they aren’t going to be nice, you don’t need to let them stress you out and frustrate you. You had your first major fit too. The doctor said that because you are not able to speak and express yourself, it may cause you to tantrum, but I call them fits; the word tantrum makes it sound so hopeless. You were so upset it nearly broke my heart. What I want you to learn from that fit, the one in the lunchroom, is that you are different, and people know it too, but just because you can’t hear at all and have to read people’s expressions to figure thing out shouldn’t define you and what you are like. What defines you is your perseverance, your ability to love and forgive, and lastly, your smile that can light up a room, Lovebug. Remember that.
I love you,
Dad

June 6, 2004
Belle,

Yesterday was your last day of sixth grade! You did wonderfully, lovebug! You were able to find some great friends and they stuck beside you all year. You have not had a major fit, but you have little ones more regularly. Most of the time they are about nothing important, and even sometimes they are about me. You were so strong when I finally told you what happened to Mom. I'm sorry it took me so long, but you were so nice to forgive me. Gossip is getting a little worse, so I really hope you'll be able to cope with it, but, who am I kidding, of course you will. You can deal with anything, but not only that, you can deal with it in a very mature way. I'm so proud of you and I love you very much,
Dad

June 6, 2005
Belle,

I'm not going to lie, seventh grade was difficult, for both of us. The worst fit you had was when an eighth grade boy tripped you in the hallway. Everyone laughed and pointed and whispered. You pushed a kid down, but I always knew you had the strength in you! Even though violence is never the answer, I'm glad you stood up for yourself. Most of your fits were related to being a grumpy teenager, but I just went along. You also switched out your pink, sparkly hearing aids for skin-tone ones. I saved the pink ones anyway. Finally, your friends that we thought were nice turned out to be popularity-driven snobs. Peer pressure will always be there and friends will come and go but most importantly remember to be yourself. Who cares if you wear pink, sparkly hearing aids if you like them. Be yourself, Lovebug.
I love you,
Dad

June 6, 2006
Belle,

Wow, eighth grade was a big year. You matured a great deal during the school year and I’m so proud of you. You got all A’s on your report card for the first time ever, which was wonderful! You are going to high school next year, and if I’m being honest, I’m probably more worried than you. Your fits tended to stay at home because your teachers told me that you made a friend that helped you calm down nearly as fast as I could. I think her name is Emily, but you don’t tell me much about your friends. You read a lot at home, so I buy you books and take you to the bookstore more than I’d like, but I think of it as your little happy place. One thing you have to be careful of is shutting people out; it sounds like you’re afraid someone is going to hurt you so you don’t open up at all, but, Lovebug, sometimes you have to let yourself go a little. The reason I say this is because Quinn called a couple of months ago, she said that she really misses you and that you avoid her. It’s okay if you don’t want to open up, Lovebug, and by the time you read this you may not have seen her for a long time so it may not matter anyway.
I love you,
Dad

June 6, 2007
Belle,

Ninth grade was very good compared to what I was thinking it might be,anyways, you still did great, Lovebug. You asked me to stop calling you that but I’m not sure if I can. I have been calling you that name for years, and its just something I can’t seem to forget. You wear makeup to school and you normally try to do your hair in a way that covers your ears. When you saw your pink, sparkly hearing aids you yelled at me and slammed the door of your room. That was your only fit the whole year, and it made me so proud that it was your only one all year. Emily came over to the house once and I made cookies, but you said that they were burnt; Emily ate them. Lovebug, you are so mature and loving, you’ve really evolved since last year, also, you’re nearly as tall as me, but not that I’m tall anyway. I’m so proud of you.
I love you,
Dad

June 6, 2008
Belle,

The biggest thing that happened this year was that you got your driver’s license, and you were so excited you started bouncing after they handed it to you. I haven’t seen you bounce about something since you were in first grade and you got your Barbie-themed powered car from Santa. You made me so very nervous when you drove that thing. You love driving now and I think sometimes you make excuses to go out just to drive. You’re going to be a junior but you aren’t taking any honors classes. This past year you took honors algebra and I think it was a little too much. You had a lot of homework and it stressed you out a lot. You went with Emily and her family to Disney World for spring break and I really missed you. I bought a dog and you weren’t too pleased at first but it’s a small dog that I picked up from the shelter, and he’s very sweet. He grew on you even though you don’t like to admit it. Be careful, Lovebug. Not only with driving but just as you get older. There’s a lot of dangerous things out there that you’re going to have to be careful of that I am not going to be able to control for much longer. Also, you did not have one fit all year! I took you out for a special dinner to celebrate. I’m so proud of you, Lovebug.
I love you,
Dad
June 6, 2009

Belle,
You’re going to be a senior in less than three months! I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. You have made me so proud as you’ve grown up. The most important thing that happened this year was your Otolaryngologist, which is just a fancy term for an ear, nose, and throat doctor, told us of a new surgery to help you be able to hear a slight bit better. We looked into it and decided to try the surgery. You were in the hospital for one week after the surgery but after he took your bandages off your ears your face lit up, and I’ll never forget how happy you looked. You’ll never be able to make voices clear, but even to hear something instead of nothing delighted you. The first song I played you was “Something There” from Beauty and the Beast. You were named after Belle for her beautiful singing voice, and because your mom loved the name. I told you that story out loud and you acted like you understood what I was saying; maybe you actually did. I’m so proud of you, Lovebug. You are so brave.
I love you,
Dad

June 6, 2010
Belle,

You just graduated high school with all of your credits, and you are going to college! I am so unbelievably proud of you, Lovebug! You have been working with a speech therapist (much to your original resentment) and you really have come a long way. Even though you still can’t hear perfectly, or really at all, the hearing aids help, and you are glad you had the surgery. You and Emily have been friends for a very long time, and I have a feeling you will be for a long time. I’m so grateful for you, beautiful Belle.
I love you,
Dad

Part three

I remember that I stared at my computer for a long time after I read those emails. It was late when I finally got up, but the first thing I wanted to do was call Dad. I really missed him after I finished them. I tried to call mom but she didn’t answer any of the times I called her. I called her twelve times. I’m not sure what made me want to call her, but I just had so many questions. He died seventeen days after he sent that last email. I wonder if he would have kept writing them? There’s no way to know now. The last person I called was Emily. She and I are very good friends, and she has helped me through so much. I explained everything to her-from the emails to all of my questions- and she stayed patient the whole time. She helped me to realize that I don’t need answers to appreciate everything my dad did for me. Sometimes even those short little emails are all I need.

Now it has been eight years since my dad died. I still miss him a lot but after that talk with Emily I have felt a constant peace around me. I almost felt like my dad was talking through Emily. Maybe those emails weren’t a rulebook like I thought they were at first, but maybe they were just suggestions or guidelines. Emily and I still talk regularly, and she’s still my best friend. My hearing has improved even more since high school. I still wear hearing aids, but I am able to make out most words. I’ve learned a lot, and I’m so grateful for everything Dad did for me.