I would not have given dad or any of his things a second thought except for my conversation with the psychotherapist, but she provoked an interest. “What if dad really wasn’t who I thought he was?” I wondered. “What if he cared for me in ways he couldn’t express? What if there really is a part of the man my mom and I don’t know?”
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To muddle through. To find a way, despite daunting circumstances. To overcome terrifying obstacles, sometimes with nothing more than a dream. To find a shred of light in a sea of darkness. To hear the one true note of music in a cacophony of noise. To inspire when everyone around you is falling down. To make the most of what you have, putting one foot in front of the other, transforming the scraggly tree life has given you into something beautiful. To muddle through…somehow.