My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.

There were nights I wondered whether I had been too severe, and mornings when Colin wondered whether I would ever forgive him.

We both had to learn that being right about one thing doesn’t make you right about everything.

I could defend my choices while admitting I might have communicated sooner.

He could regret his choices without pretending that apologies instantly restored trust.

And Jessica could begin treating me with consideration without expecting the past to disappear at her convenience.

There is no legal document in Richard’s office that could have done that work for us.

We had to do it ourselves, one honest conversation at a time.