Father and Son

He cleared his throat and delicately brushed his thumb over the back of his father's palm, overcome. "In the end, I succumbed to the devastation and ruin. What was I doing in a distant nation trying to reconcile shattered families when my own was coming apart at home? What right did I have to keep you at arm's length, Father, when your biggest sin was wanting to provide me with a better life than you had when you were younger?"

"You're my son," Rocco said. "Stubborn and proud and hell set on making your own way in the world, just as I was at your age. And you wanted to make that world a better place."

"Yes, I did. But I neglected you in the process. Have I left it too late to ask your forgiveness?"

Rocco lifted his other hand and placed it alongside Chris's stubble-covered jaw with great difficulty. "Ah, my foolish boy," he grumbled. "Don't you realize it's never too late for a father to welcome his kid when he returns h