When Patrice Hanson told me her husband was a San Quinton Convict who was terrrizng her two sons, and when she asked if they could come live with me, the terrible abuse my brother and I came to mind. Our father stole our childhood. Perhaps I could save the childhood of these boys that I invited into my home. I gave them sanctuary. From this agreement I concieved a daughter who can not nullify this agreement. Nor can her mother and aunt.
This morning I awoke with another truth. I don’t have to get down on my knees and beg my daughter and her family to be fair to me, and let me be a father and grandfather. So, when I rose out of bed, I rose off my knees. I am done with that!
When Vicki lie in that intensive care bed, in a vegative state, she was a prisoner in every way. I sensed she was searching for something in her memory bank. My niece Shannon threatened to drive all night from Bullhead City and get me to see Vicki – before she died.
This morning when I rose off my knees, alas Vicki told me what she was looking for. She was looking for a good man in her life, a father-figure, someone who was kind to her, who stood up for her, would even die for her. Alas…
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