Nothing.
Our only son still hadn’t arrived.
Richard had fought cancer for 11 months. During the last three, he could barely lift his tea without both hands.
Daniel should have been beside us through all of it.
Instead, four months before Richard died, I came home from the pharmacy to find our wedding photograph shattered on the hallway floor.
Richard had fought cancer for 11 months.
Daniel stood beside it with a suitcase.
His face was wet with tears.
“I can’t believe you asked that of me!”
Richard was gripping the back of a chair for support.
“I have no other choice.”
His face was wet with tears.
Daniel’s face crumpled.
“Then you’ve lost your son!”
Daniel walked out.
The door slammed.
I followed him onto the porch, but by the time I reached the sidewalk, his car was already pulling away.
Daniel walked out.
Daniel had already accepted a
