“You didn’t ask.”
The words fell cleanly.
My mother blinked.
For the first time, she seemed not offended, not defensive, but genuinely uncertain.
My father finally spoke.
“We should have asked.”
I turned to him.
part 2 My own mother said my PhD graduation wasn’t worth the flight,
He looked at me with a sadness that felt late, but not false.
“I should have called you,” he said. “More than I did. I told myself you were busy. I told myself you’d reach out when you needed us.”
“I did need you,” I said.
His face crumpled slightly.
The sight made me look away.
There are moments when anger is easier than grief because anger gives you something to hold. Grief only opens its hands and shows you what is missing.
“I have to go,” I said.
“Sarah, please,” my mother said. “Come to dinner.”
I met her eyes.
“Why?”
The question seemed to confuse her.
“Because we’re family.”
I waited.
