Hate

The one thing that I did that I hate about my life is that when he was 10 years old after his mother had died I terrorized my son. I don't know why I did it. I reacted to something. And I don't think he ever trusted me again.


When I had realized what I had done it was way too late to undo it.


I know that because I did try to fix it, many times. But the beautiful, cheerful demeanor that existed before never came back.


I've said I'm sorry a half-dozen times but he says he doesn't know what I'm talking about. That is how far back in his mind it is buried. It's a stain on me, and probably on him, that will never be erased.


There is no way to ever describe how much I regret it.


(QB)

To go back