Then he turned around.
“I remember thinking Dad was strict,” he said. “I never imagined…”
He stopped.
Anna reached toward him.
“Michael, you were a child. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He came back and knelt in front of her.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She touched his cheek.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
The conversation lasted for hours.
There were painful questions, difficult memories, and moments when everyone needed to stop and breathe.
But when Susan and Michael finally left, Anna seemed lighter.
Not healed.
Not free from every memory.
But lighter.
That evening, she sat beside me on the sofa.
“I thought telling them would destroy everything,” she said.
“And did it?”
She considered the question.
“No. It hurt. But I don’t feel as though I’m carrying it all by myself anymore.”
I kissed her hand.
“That’s a good place to start.”
She rested her head against my shoulder.
