“Marcus, my boy, you were a beautiful ruin when I met you eleven years ago. And I can’t tell you the joy it gave me to see you come back to life, to see how being a Jesuit healed something inside you. I have loved you like my own child. I want you to be happy and I want you to feel joy and be loved. And I never want you to be lonely or to make the same mistakes I did. That’s every good father’s wish for his child—be happy, be good, don’t get hurt. You are walking through a minefield, son. I can’t look. But I can’t look away either.”
