We knew better than to label Nora cruel or careless; she was such a cautious person—even as a child. She still made dinner with us, laughed at small jokes, and left Post-it notes on the fridge when she’d be late. But now each of her gestures felt like a bandage over a festering wound. She was close, yet slipping further away.
As a child, Martin had always been her hero! She clung to her daddy and took his word for the gospel truth. Of course, as girls grow up, that bond inevitably changes, but she still loved her father. I always believed that there was a special connection between them that held no space for me, her mother.