We went east instead of west. We cancelled the trip we had planned for the one we had known could happen.

Well, I knew.

But even I had not anticipated the jackknifed truck across the bridge, the hours of waiting and praying as my father died hours away from me.

I had to let him go.

We stopped in Mobile, exhausted, not there yet. They were so kind, they gave us snacks. Snacks at midnight.

The next morning we knew he was gone. I swam laps in the hotel pool. Not just for grief but because you had a fit, one of your usual hold-my-family-hostage-in-a-public-space fits.

So I swam while you took a time out. Then I reminded you that staging a tantrum at an indoor swimming pool on the day of your adopted grandfather’s untimely demise was a weenie move.

After all that happened then and after I know…I might as well have been speaking Swahili.

Forgiveness. Tough gig.