My father died in my arms. That's tumult. That's everything exploding.

This is what I know. I look like my father. My father disappeared when he was seventeen years old. Hannah once told me that there is something unnatural about being older than your father ever got to be. When you can say that at the age of seventeen, it's a different kind of devastating.

My father died when I was really young, on Christmas Day.

I saw my father as a man, and not, as a man who was my father.

When I held you in my arms at your baptism, I wanted it to be a fresh start, for you to be more complete than we had ever been ourselves, but I wonder if we expected too much.

Another boy died in my arms, he had severe chest injuries. he was sitting in a Chinese restaurant, he was only 10.