“My mom asked me not to donate.”
I leaned closer.
“She’s asked more than once. And eventually she started asking whether this was really my decision… or yours.”
My stomach tightened.
“I told her the decision was mine.”
He dragged his hands slowly over his face.
“She hates the idea that strangers might receive something from me after I’m gone. I understand that. I really do.”
He paused.
“But grief doesn’t give anyone permission to turn you into the villain.”
My breath caught.
Mark looked straight into the camera.
“Don’t protect me by letting her hurt you.”
Tears began sliding down my face.
“And don’t let Cecelia grow up hearing that her father was too confused or too weak to make his own choices.”
I hit pause.
The room went silent.
“You knew.”
My voice sounded strange.
I stood.
“You knew this might happen.”
