I gripped the edge of the desk.
“I spent so much time worrying about making sure you had a decent life that I forgot something pretty important. Life’s supposed to make you happy, too. Not just pay the bills.”
He shook his head.
He paused.
“When your mom died, I got scared. I thought if I worked hard enough, kept a roof over our heads, and made sure you learned to stand on your own two feet, I’d be doing my job.”
He shook his head.
“Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be your dad.”
He swallowed.
My eyes filled with tears.
“A while back, I started watching these old recordings. Just feeling nostalgic, I guess. And I remembered how much I loved playing music. How happy it made me. Then I remembered how you used to look when you played.”
He swallowed.
“And I realized I’d spent years trying to protect you from the very thing that once made my own life worth living.”
