Our father frequently said relatives should remain together regardless of circumstances.
For years, I’d interpreted his belief as an obligation to forgive every betrayal.
I no longer see it that way.
It’s possible to treasure memories of someone while deciding they can never again become part of your daily life.
I take no pleasure in remembering Trevor’s or Monica’s sentences.
What matters to me is that the evidence was recognized and responsibility established.
Justice couldn’t return my stolen years.
It did, however, give me the opportunity to live without carrying blame for someone else’s wrongdoing.
Recently, while sorting through an old bag, I discovered the first note Opal had handed me.
It was still folded.
Russell Keane’s name and telephone number were written across it.
I carried the paper into the kitchen, where Mama Opal was preparing coffee.
“Look what I found.”
She put on her glasses and smiled.
