He explained that being sorry didn't erase responsibility.
I listened from the hallway.
For the first time, I heard him tell our daughter something he should have told me years earlier.
**"When you make a mistake, Iris, telling the truth is part of making it right. Even when you're scared."**
I stood outside the room and cried.
***
Six months after the surgery, Dad invited us to visit his research laboratory.
It was small.
Nothing like the impressive hospital where Nigel worked.
There were shelves filled with books, microscopes, and photographs of patients who had agreed to share their stories.
Dad showed me the equipment he used in his work.
Then he took me into a room at the back.
On the wall hung a photograph of a young girl holding a stuffed rabbit.
Me.
Before the accident.
I stared at it.
"Dad…"
He looked embarrassed.
"I kept it on my desk."
