Many of my achievements have been a way of calling to him over the roar of an ocean that only widens with the years. I am embarrassed to admit that the question I call across the waves never changes: “Did you love me?” It would be nice if prayer or counseling could resolve this question or lessen its intensity. They haven’t. It would also be helpful if I could keep the effect of it contained to one or two areas of my life. I can’t. The question won’t rest until it’s answered, which—unless my father rises from the dead and tells me himself—isn’t likely to happen. So I’ve come up with
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