Chapter 14 - The Woman Who Blamed Me
Her name was Patricia Cole.
She came to one of my talks and waited until everyone had left.
“You shouldn’t be celebrated,” she said.
I froze.
“I agree.”
That surprised her.
“You failed your son.”
“Yes.”
Her anger faltered.
“You’re supposed to defend yourself.”
“I spent a year doing that in my head.”
Patricia began crying.
Her brother had died years earlier.
Her father had blamed himself until alcohol destroyed the rest of their family.
“I’m afraid that’s what grief does,” she whispered.
I understood.
We sat in the empty auditorium.
Two strangers united by people we couldn’t bring home.
“You can regret what you did,” I told her, “without deciding your only purpose is punishment.”
I realized I was speaking to myself.
That evening, I went to Leo’s grave.
For the first time, I said something other than sorry.
“Thank you.”
The words felt strange.
“Thank you for being my son.”
May you like
And the wind moved through the grass.
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