Months later, I used part of Dad’s remaining savings to create a small education fund through an existing community program.
It helped single parents returning to study construction, engineering, or a skilled trade.
At the first presentation, Dad’s old coworkers filled the back row.
“I understand why you were afraid.”
I handed the first check to a single mother who had left school after her son was born.
She held it with both hands.
“Why did your father choose this?” she asked.
I smiled through the tightness in my throat.
“He believed a dream could be delayed without being wasted.”
***
Hannah and I kept talking. We didn’t become family overnight, but we began with the truth.
“Why did your father choose this?”
Mom sent letters. I left the first two unanswered.
Forgiveness, I learned, wasn’t the same as giving someone immediate access to my life.
It was something I would decide in my own time.
I kept one of the birthday cards, not because Mom had sent it, but because Dad had written the date on the envelope and saved it all those years.
Mom sent letters.
