He gave me everything I needed, even when he had nothing left to give.
As for Jessica? She had the title of mother that I’d never used, and maybe that used to hurt more than I let on. Maybe, for a while, I did hate her.
Or at least the idea of her.
But standing there, with the noise of the world finally quiet, I didn’t feel hate. Sometimes letting go doesn’t roar, it just exhales.
