It is unfortunate that in most cases when the sins of the father fall on the son it is because unlike God, people refuse to forgive and forget and heap past wrongs upon innocent generations.

Unforgiveness,splinter in your breastbone, lives there lodged like a small tree.Withers in winter, looms in spring. Its fruit is sweet on first bite, then turns into the taste of your own flesh.

Because the truth was, and we both knew it, he’d gone long, long ago. I’d just made him stick around when he really wanted to be somewhere else. In his own weird way, he was...