"And you can take her home now," a doctor told me.
"Thank you," I said half-heartedly.
I took Delilah in my arms and held her like I once held her mother. She was so small, but luckily, healthy.
She was beautiful.
My heart ached.
I let everyone hold her.
I said goodbye to them, I needed to be alone with my daughter. We all went back home, parted ways.
I had a home in Seattle, an apartment, but far away from Amanda's.
And I drove home in a taxi and I lied in bed, I lied there, Delilah in my arms. She had a purple bow on her tiny head.
I stared at the ceiling.
She's gone. She's really gone.
I took care of Delilah, like a good father should do. I had to purchase a million fuckin diapers, get up countless times during the night. I had to buy weird milk shit because unfortunately, I couldn't breast feed her.
And the days that led up to Corey's trial were long, but I created a close bond with my daughter.
The funeral was going to be on September 8, seven days after the trial.
I spent my days walking around Seattle, Delilah in the stroller I purchased. I was a full time dad now.
I also wrote a lot. A lot.
Endless songs about Amanda. And I played for Delilah, who often cried hearing my low voice.
I sang with so much more passion now.
And apart of me was gone. That mischievous little Vedder was gone, temporarily, but I knew he'd be back.
I wasn't necessarily depressed, or suicidal, I couldn't allow myself to be. Delilah was more important.
I just felt...Sad. And sometimes I'd cry to Delilah. And she was calm. I'd cry, for hours, until I couldn't breathe. To the point where I almost coughed up blood.
And she would remain calm.
I had countless dreams about Amanda, too. So fucking many. I dreamt that she was still here. And she would breast feed Delilah, and I would hold them both. And I could feel it in my heart. I could feel the love between our little family.
And it still felt like Amanda was with me. I could feel her next to me as I slept alone. And I could feel her around everytime Delilah was calm. And sometimes I didn't feel so alone.
And I often wondered where she is. Is there a Heaven? If so, will I go when I die?
And I pondered my own worth sometimes but it went away everytime I held my baby.
I have a purpose.
I ignored the media. They pretty much left me alone. I could go to the grocery store in peace. I would hear about it on the news but I didn't pay much attention.
I got a call from Kurt, too. He did his best to comfort me and I loved him for it.
Amanda's mother even contacted me, and our conversation was brief.
And everytime I thought about the bastard who killed the love of my life, I felt so much anger towards him. And stupid ass gun owners. Stupid ass police. Stupid ass drug ward. Stupid ass everything. I wanted him to burn.
Burn in hell.
But Delilah softened my heart. I am an angry person, that'll never change, but... She softens my heart, she soothes my soul.
And I play music for her. If she doesn't like it, she'll cry. If she does, she'll open her eyes a bit, and she'll be calm.
I'm pleased to say she likes The Who, The Ramones, The Beatles, Pearl Jam and even Nirvana.
But she doesn't like Eddie Vedder all that much. Eh, he's okay.
I'd like to say that she is comforted by the voice of her father, but she isn't.
He's okay.
I write about Delilah, too. She's really changed me, as a man. As a human being. I love her more than myself. More than anything. And she's beautiful, a beautiful, healthy little girl.
Our little girl.
