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not great.”
It was the most honest thing my son had said to me in years, and I held onto it carefully.
“I’m not angry at you,” I said. “I know where you are. I lived there for thirty years.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” I said. “Figure out what you think is right and do it. That’s all.”
We talked for another hour. Not about Megan, not about continue reading …
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