Every week I call to talk to her. To see how she’s doing and to let her know I love her. I tell her how proud I am of her and ask if she’s ok. You would think that I would look forward to these calls but truth be known, I dread them.

It doesn’t feel right that I have to call my daughter to find out whats she’s been up to. I should be picking her up from school each day and asking what she learned. I should be taking her to after school clubs, not asking her what she did that evening. It should be me cooking her dinner not her telling me what she ate. The list goes on. It hurts my heart when I can hear in her voice that she’s feeling down or when I can tell she has something on her mind but I can’t be there to comfort her. I know she is on speaker and every word spoken is being monitored by the evil stepmother.

But still I call. Every week. It’s my duty to make sure my daughter knows I love her, miss her and think about her. She needs to know that I am interested in her life and that I will always be here. Every call hurts me. Every call reminds me that she is being pulled away from me and every call I feel like I failed her but I have to do It and I have to not let her know how talking to her on the phone makes me feel. She likes our chats and she tells me all about her week. I hear about her little brother and how he is doing and she tells me about ‘Daddy’ and ‘Mummy and what they have been up to. I hear about school, friends and the animals she has. I images live to hear those words at the end of every call –

‘love you, miss you, bye’