Seven months after our divorce, I rushed into St. Jude’s Children’s and Women’s Hospital, still angry at my ex-wife, only to learn that she had just given birth to twin boys, and both of them were mine. Before the night was over, a nurse would place a brass key in my hand and tell me to use it before my own family arrived. And what was waiting for me beyond that was even more shocking.

“Because he firmly believed that truth forced on a person too early just becomes an unbearable burden,” she explained gently.

“He wanted you to choose the truth for yourself.”

I thought back to the powerful letter tucked in my jacket.

“At first I chose very foolishly,” I admitted quietly.

“You chose based on the manipulated information you were given at the time,” Florence pointed out gently.

“I chose not to ask the hard questions,” I corrected honestly.

“Admitting that mistake makes all the difference in the world,” she assured me.

Sylvia looked at Nurse Florence with deep gratitude.