“Dad,” said Kelie, “I miss you so much. I feel like it’s all my fault. I just wish you would come back.” The wind softly blew; the trees whistled. She closed her eyes, taking it all in: the smell of the grass, the way the wind felt on her face, and the dirt beneath her.

“I didn’t mean the things I said. I just…” a tear rolled down her cheek, “wish we had more time.” 

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, a familiar voice whispered something. “Kel bug?”

Her breath came to a halt. The only person who called her that was… “Dad?” Kelie’s voice squeaked. 

He nodded, looking at her with worried eyes. “Hey, Kels.” 

Kelie scrambled to her feet, hesitating before taking a step closer. She was afraid she was imagining this. 

“I—I thought—”

“I know,” his voice is calm. “I don’t have long.” 

The words hit her like a thunderstorm. “But— there’s so much I want to say and ask and—” 

He took her into a hug. “Kels, use your words; you can talk to me.” 

Her eyes started to fill with tears. “I’m sorry. I feel like it was my fault you died, and I was so mean to you, and I– I felt so bad afterwards, but I didn’t want to come talk to you because I thought you would be mad at me. I’m so sorry, Dad,” she spat out, pacing. 

His expression softened. “Kel bug, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But we were fighting—”

“It’s not your fault,” 

“I wished you were dead Dad!—”

“Kel bug,” he took her face in his hands, her eyes looking away, “look at me.” She finally looked at him. “It’s not your fault.” Kelie broke out into a cry. “I don’t care what you said. It was my time to go. What you said didn’t change how or when I would die.”

“Dad, I just feel so bad,” she said.

“And that says a lot about you. Some people have such cold hearts that they don’t even care that they hurt the other person’s feelings. I know you said some things you didn’t mean, and I probably did too, but that doesn’t change my love for you, Kels.” 

He was right about that. What she said to him the night before he died didn’t change his fate. He didn’t die because she said those words. His time had come, and she just happened to say those words beforehand. Yes, she felt guilty, but at least she did feel guilty. 

“But I didn’t tell you I was sorry in time,” she said.

He wiped her tears. “You don’t have to fix everything to feel loved,” he said. “I knew who you were. I knew your heart, and I still do know those things. And I was proud of you then, and I’m proud of you now.”

Her tears came crawling back. “You were?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re a great kid.” 

 “I just wanted to say goodbye—”

“Kel bug,“ he said, looking down at her, “it’s never goodbye, it’s ‘See you later’ or in our case it’s ‘Smell you later.’” He winked.

She laughed. She had missed him so much, and she still did, even though he was right in front of her. 

He looked down at his watch. “Kel bug, I almost have to go.” 

“I don’t want you to leave again. I miss you so much, and Mom does too.” 

“I miss you guys too,” he squeezed her tighter. “But you have your whole life ahead of you, Kels. Live it. Don’t carry this in everything you go through, and certainly don’t blame it on what happens in the future. You’ll go through stuff way harder than this. This is like a raindrop compared to a hurricane. The only thing I want you to learn from this is that I love you so much, and your mom does too. I don’t want you to go on with your life blaming yourself for this. I’ll always be with you, right here,” he said, poking the spot where her heart is.

She laughed. “Okay, Dad, I’ll try.” 

“That’s all I ask,” he said, giving her a small smile. The air began to become colder and he faded like summer does with fall. 

“Dad—wait—”

“I’m always with you, Kel bug, just not the way you want. Smell you later,” he said, giving her one last smile.

And then he was gone. Kelie stood there, waiting for something to happen. Maybe for him to come back, for real this time, but nothing happened, and time kept going. She looked down at his headstone, squatting down to rub her fingertips over his name.

“I love you, Dad, always have, always will.” 

She brushed her jeans and stood up. Her throat tightened when she remembered that she’d never see him again; he wouldn’t be at her wedding, he wouldn’t see her with kids, he wouldn’t see her find the love of her life, none of it. She took a step forward when a memory popped up in her mind: his voice, laughing and telling her that if he ever got a choice, he would become a caterpillar.

“Because,” he said, smiling, “they’re slow. People try to do things so fast, and caterpillars take their time. They don’t have to worry about how fast they’re going or where they’re going, and then one day, they turn into something new and beautiful.” 

She hadn’t wrap her head around it then, but she did now. She was looking at the ground while she walked away when something caught her eye. It was a caterpillar.