I watched the white-haired man walk slowly into the bank. He used a cane to steady himself. He moved slowly. He looked very frail.
I knew the face, but I didn’t really know that face anymore. I had known this man when he was young and strong and vibrant, not when he seemed more like the men from my grandparents’ generation.
But though I hadn’t seen him for years — and though he had changed a lot — this man was still my father.
Until today, I hadn’t seen anyone in my family for roughly eight years. Although I never would have called us this when I was a child, the truth is that we were a seriously dysfunctional family. We didn’t know that phrase then — and even if we had known it, we would have been in denial.
Beauty queen’s suicide leaves me pondering lesson of Richard Cory
Tribal instincts cause us to see others as evil, when they’re just different
FRIDAY FUNNIES
Pinning big hopes on Mitt Romney? He’s a hypocrite on ObamaCare
Liberty-minded people need to distance ourselves from crazy folks
A year later, my father’s death looms large, but I have no regrets