I Paid My Father $250 in Rent Every Month for Five Years. After His Funeral, His Best Friend Gave Me a Key and a Box.

Sometimes he’d stand in the hallway long after telling me to stop, not because he wanted to catch me breaking a rule, but because he liked the songs.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I said.

“I know,” he replied.

“I almost didn’t tell you.”

I asked why Dad had never said one encouraging word.

Frank shook his head.