Inside was a folded piece of
heavy paper.
Eric took it.
His hands started shaking before he even finished unfolding it.
Then he read.
I watched his face change.
I had known my brother my entire life, but I had never seen that expression before.
It looked like someone had just returned something to him that he had stopped believing he would ever receive.
Later, Eric let me read part of the letter.
Some of it belonged only to him, and I will always respect that.
But I can tell you what Dad was trying to say.
He wrote about Eric’s divorce.
About their argument.
About all those silent years afterward.
And then Dad admitted something.
He had failed to show up.
Not physically.
Dad had always been there physically.
But during the worst period of Eric’s divorce, my brother hadn’t needed advice or solutions.
He had needed his father to say:
