“Do you know what the worst part of those five years was, Dad?” I thought she would say the hunger, or the stolen money, or the hanger.

She shook her head.

“The worst part,” she said, “was that she painted a fake version of me to you, and a fake version of you to me.

She kept two people who loved each other from speaking, for five whole years.” Her words have stayed with me every day since.

Because money can be recovered.

Health can improve.

You can buy new clothes, and pay for college, and fill a refrigerator to overflowing.

But no one can ever give back a missed graduation, or a birthday, or an award you never saw, or a night when your child fell asleep believing you did not love her.