The Forgotten Son
It was a blizzard outside the window as she lay in the hospital bed, waiting in despair for life to slip away.
Her most beloved child, at her lowest point, stole the money meant to save her life.
I, on the other hand, positioned my thumb in the cutting machine just to save her.
Pain shot through every nerve.
Jean buried her face deep into her knees and sobbed uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry, my child.”
For some reason, my heart remained still in the face of Jean’s apology.
I had long since made peace with her double standards and her discrimination. As I no longer loved her, her apologies meant nothing to me.