I got stuck with your kid.” And she was right about one part of it, the part that would take me the longest to forgive in myself: I had been absent.

After my wife, Sarah, died in a car accident, I had signed over temporary guardianship to my sister so I could finish my final tour, and for a year I had believed the birthday photos she texted me, the updates about tutoring, the receipts for clothes and school supplies.

Every time Hannah did not appear on a video call, Veronica had a reason — asleep, at a friend’s, feeling unwell.

The guilt in me was real, and I did not run from it.