“Before I had you and your siblings, your mom was the one good thing in my life. And I know I’m supposed to tell you how love conquers all. How we could move mountains together. But the love we had almost destroyed us both. Love is like having a mortal wound and you’re bleeding out and no matter how hard you look, you can never find the goddamn cut.” He never broke eye contact. I kept looking. Listening, feeling his words. “It’s its own special brand of pain,” he told me. “Because no matter how much you love, you’re still a passenger to their life. You have to watch all their bad decisions.
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