“I still hear some of them.”
“I know.”
He was silent for a while.
“I was so focused on what I believed I deserved,” he said. “I forgot what was important. I forgot about family. I forgot about love. I turned everything into money, ownership, and winning.”
“You were afraid.”
“I was terrified. But instead of admitting I needed help, I decided everyone else owed me a solution.”
“That was your mistake.”
“One of many.”
We passed a roadside church, a gas station, and a row of small homes with flags hanging from their porches.
“I made mistakes, too,” I said.
Michael turned toward me.
“What you did was your responsibility. I want to be clear about that. But I isolated myself after your mother died. I refused help. I stopped living in the present.”
“That didn’t justify what I did.”
“No. It didn’t.”
“I don’t want you blaming yourself.”
