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“That night, in my sister's bed, I stared at the ceiling and felt the true loss of our father. Not his money or his house, but the man I sat next to in the car. He had protected me from the world so completely that I had no idea what the world was capable of. I'd never thought about him as a child, I had never asked him about the war; I'd only seen him as my father, and as my father I had judged him. There was nothing to do about that now but add it to the catalogue of my mistakes.” — Ann Patchett
That night, in my sister's bed, I stared at the ceiling and felt the true loss of our father. Not his money or his house, but the man I sat next to in the car. He had protected me from the world so completely that I had no idea what the world was capable of. I'd never thought about him as a child, I had never asked him about the war; I'd only seen him as my father, and as my father I had judged him. There was nothing to do about that now but add it to the catalogue of my mistakes.