Extract From A Short Story Called Insular

I never thought much of Julian Kensi.
I was busy. Or so I told myself afterward. Even then I knew that was a lie told to protect myself from questioning my jarred sanity.
Looking back with tired eyes through the forty-two years between then and now, I see that I was only a self-centered child attempting to be an adult. A part of me wants to shake that child.
You must forgive me if you read this. I know you don't have to, but I pray that you will. You see I was doing my best and I knew nothing better. That is what most of us do in life, our best, and we hope it all turns out right in the end.
For Julian, there wasn't a damn thing that turned out right for him. And what haunts me, as much as what happened, is that I could have gotten it right. I could have saved him. It's the what-ifs that keep a man up at night, let me tell you.