Now, with Dad’s journals stacked on my nightstand and a new chapter in my life, I’m learning to walk more lightly. I’m learning to choose the people who choose me for the right reasons. And I carry with me one last gift from my father: not a house, not money, but a reminder that true love never asks, “What’s wrong with you?” It asks, “How can I be with you?”
And this is a heritage worth preserving.
