I Got Home From the Oil Rig Two Weeks Early and Found My Eight-Year-Old Son Cooking Dinner for Strangers—The Messages He Never Sent Explained Everything.
I returned the phone and told him I was glad he had a place to write down what he was feeling.
“Do you still feel sad about everything that happened?” he asked.
“Sometimes I do.”
“Even when I’m happy?”
“Even then.
I can feel sad about what you went through and happy that you’re doing so much better.”
He smiled, recognizing a lesson we had gone over many times.
“Two things.”