At My Purple Heart Ceremony, My Stepmother Swung a Folding Chair Into My Arm—Then My Father Looked Down Instead of Protecting Me

There were good memories.

He taught me to ride a bike.

Made pancakes shaped like letters when I was little.

Sat beside me through pneumonia before Gertrude ever entered our lives.

Taught me how to change a tire.

Cried at my high-school graduation.

People do not become entirely false because they fail later.

That would have been easier.