By Doug Forbes

Elena and I promised to be fully transparent, even if transparency is unsettling. This is one of those unsettling moments.

A lot of good things are happening with the foundation. We are honored to have the support of so many wonderful donors. And, we pledge to drive the kind of change that will save young lives.

On the other hand, a lot of not-so-good things are swirling inside my head.

I absolutely adore children. Yet, I find myself battling the reality that they represent. Children are like little postcards that illustrate all the marvelous places we can go. And yet, Roxie and I will never go anywhere again.

I so desperately want to hear what her voice would sound like today. Or how her already magnificent cheekbones would have gained even more definition. I have recurring dreams of her holding me even tighter than she did while on earth. In fact, I had another such dream early this morning. We were counting to one hundred. She got a bit off track. We laughed. I turned her toward me and told her how much I missed her and loved her. We embraced knot-tight. And then I awoke.

When these dreams end, the day begins it’s torturous assault on equilibrium. Everything is sideways thereafter. Time is inverted. Time is remorseless.

Time also magnifies old wounds. Old wounds do not die hard. They live hard but die rarely. My anxieties have grown new wings. They fly me to heights and depths at which I can barely breathe, let alone look.

But I ultimately have to look. I cannot avert my eyes from the violent, wholly preventable death inflicted upon my daughter by people who have lied and covered up so much that I understand how people would have a hard time imagining this to be true. But it is…true. And eventually, everyone who cares will see the depths of the DiMassa family’s inhumanity and the wayward paths that the counselors took in the wake of having neglected Roxie to death.

What these people clearly do not realize or care about is that Roxie wasn’t just my daughter. She was my future. She was my new set of eyes and ears, both of which I loved far more than my own. I would spend most of my time in her company simply looking at her—looking at this ginormous being in the teeny vessel, wondering where the days, weeks, months and years would take us.

Oh, the places we could have gone, my love.

The naked truth is that my future is now my past. I abhor this future. I am a man who I do not wish to inhabit. But left with no choice, I face it to keep Roxie in my eyes and to keep Elena in my arms.

Roxie and I spent a lot of time discussing the importance of persistence, especially when burdened by things often beyond our control. It sounded good at the time.