Edit history

I was too young to notice the change in your voice back then, but I hear it now, and it’s like sirens. All I can hear is desperation and urgency. It's like pulling the chord and swimming from where we hit the ocean surface. You'd swim the Atlantic for us, and we couldn’t have been more oblivious. 3 sons in your arms. No land in sight. Swallowing as much water as you could. Praying we would someday feel dry sand again. Yet the amount of times I wished the eject button on the tape deck worked for the drivers seat, makes me sick with guilt. And simply saying the words "I'm sorry" would never do that gut wrenching feeling justice... but for what it's worth, I am. Now we are older... but we are still your boys. Mud riddled and shirtless in the back yard. And it always seemed like we were counting stitches and bruises while you were counting blessings and years. Your Mother passed and I was charged with the duty of messenger. Cowardly family avoiding the conflict forced my hand to tell