“You two have to deal with this directly,” my mother will say, pointing first to my father then to me. “I refuse to be in the middle anymore.” But I will refuse her request. I will refuse to even look at my father, the man with whom, post-LIA, I’ve primarily communicated through brief e-mails and one-sentence answers.
agree, how can one love someone who condemns you in every thought? oxymoron with moron being the word to describe the limited brain power and compassion of these religions...
