Dad smiled before turning back to the camera.
“These guys will help you if you want to pursue music. And if you don’t, they’ll respect that too.”
He paused, struggling to speak.
Microphones
“I wish I’d been a better father. I wish we’d had more time. Most of all, I wish I’d told you how proud I am of you.”
A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I love you, son. I always have. Goodbye, buddy.”
The screen went black.
I sat there crying, grieving the father I’d lost and the relationship we’d never repaired.
Then I remembered his final instruction.
Browse Reference
“Open the drawer beneath the mixing desk.”
Inside was a wooden box filled with sixty envelopes, each marked with a month and year.
I opened the first. Inside were three bills totaling $250.
Every envelope contained the same amount.
All the rent I’d paid over five years: $15,000.
