When I got out of the hospital after being shot, the first thing I did was visit my mom. After some persuasion, I managed to get my dad to tag along, too. And the best part? It went great. After that, he visited her every day. I mean, he really visited her, not just stalked the halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Then, after almost a year of taking things slow and working through their issues with a therapist, mom came home and they’ve never looked back. Of course, things aren’t perfect–they never are–but they face their hurdles together now. Dad’s hours at work have significantly
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