O how that father must have wept.
I feel for him now.
I always have.
I always knew one of my boys would leave me.
I knew he wouldn't understand - and he'd reject my love.
He would not embrace what I loved - not even if it was his own brother, lost so long ago, and now, found again.
How could it be? His own flesh and blood.
And yet...
I have waited so long. Scanning the horizon. Hope against hope, hoping to find him.
Wondering if he'd ever come home.
Should I have gone after him?
A secret: I did.
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