And the cruelest truth?
Vanessa didn’t steal my life.
I had given it to him.
Well, willingly.
For a few compliments and the illusion that time could have been backwards.
Margaret never welcomed me back as a husband.
I finally learned to respect that.
We remained the father of our children and the grandfather of our grandchildren, and with time we managed to build a civilized relationship.
But the twenty-seven years we had had together did not return.
And they didn’t have to.
Because this was the lesson I learned too late:
Sometimes you don’t understand the value of the person who has built a life with you until you leave it for someone who only makes you feel younger.
And regret can teach you to become a better man, but it does not give you the right to receive back what you have chosen, knowingly, to destroy.
