He admitted that his debts were worse than anyone had realized and that Susan had insisted he seek professional help managing them.
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Then he said something I never expected.
“Dad, I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
I looked at him for a long time.
“You’re my son, Daniel. I’ll always love you. But loving you doesn’t mean allowing you to hurt me.”
He nodded, crying quietly.
I told him that rebuilding our relationship would take time.
He would need to be honest, respect my boundaries, and accept that my money was
mine to manage.
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He agreed.
I don’t know whether our relationship will ever be what it once was.
Some wounds don’t heal overnight.
But I’m still here.
I’m still living in the home where Margaret and I built our life together.
Every morning, I make coffee, open the curtains, and sit beside the window overlooking the roses she planted.
