What I know is this: He didn’t run from what he did. He spent the rest of his life stepping toward it, one midnight alarm, one phone call, one sink hair wash at a time.
He couldn’t undo the crash. But he gave me love, stability, and now a doorway.
Maybe I’ll roll through it. Maybe someday I’ll walk.
Either way, he carried me as far as he could.
The rest is mine.
