He knew her anger, when it came, would really be grief wearing anger’s clothes, and he did not want me to meet it with anger of my own.

But he also did not want me to surrender his final decision simply to make her pain easier, to undo what he had chosen in order to keep the peace.

He wanted me to hold the line on his choice while being gentle with the woman who could not bear it.

And then, below that, he had written the thing that made me put the letter down and weep at my own kitchen table: If Mom needs to be angry with me, let her.

Chapter 13 — Even While Dying

I cried for a long time over that sentence. If Mom needs to be angry with me, let her.