Short story called "Starting Over"

I stood against the ledge, and looked up at the sky. It was one of the palest blues I've ever seen. The wind brushed against my face, and I now knew what heaven was like. I wanted to spread my arms and fly down to the bottom. I wanted to run away, from everything. I simply wanted to run away. I heard a voice. That voice. "Claire." I lifted my face toward the sky, imagining …

…to care, to stay long enough to hear me, hear what I had to say, though I rarely did say anything at all. I felt a single tear trail down my face, and I started thinking. I burst into sobs. It felt great to finally let everything out. My dad walks back into my room without saying a word, and put his arms around me for the first time in 4 years, since my mother's death.