I returned home unannounced after four years in Canada and found my wife with a shaved head, terribly thin and struggling alone in the backyard. My mother said she had sought that punishment herself. I didn't scream. Instead, I got my phone...

Clara had missed important treatment appointments and was extremely weakened.

The doctor looked at me straight.

“They should never have let her face this alone.”

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That phrase stayed with me.

That night I sat next to Clara while I was sleeping.

His shaved head rested on the pillow.

For four years I had been killing myself working in Canada, believing that every sacrifice was buying him a better life.

Meanwhile, she weakened inside a shed behind my own home.

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I wanted to blame Vivian.

I wanted to blame Derek.

And blamed them.

But there was another person who was also to blame.

To myself.

I had accepted every “I’m okay.”

Every excuse about why your camera didn’t work.

Every phone call shorter.

I had been so focused on financially supporting my wife that I stopped paying attention to the woman I was supposedly holding.