It is ironic and sad that perhaps the most important inhabitant of that room was and would always be Bill’s father. Alive, Sy Wechsler was the incarnation of his son’s unfulfilled longing. He was one of those people who were never fully present at the events of their own lives. A part of him was not there, and it was this absent quality in his father that Bill never stopped pursuing—even after the man was dead.
