It would be more understandable if my father was an asshole or something, but he wasn’t. At least what I remembered of him he wasn’t. The memories...of him faded more and more over the years. Sometimes I forget what he looked like. After the car accident I sat in my room crying for weeks. I hated my mom, God, the drunk driver that slammed into his car head-on. I hated everyone I could for letting him die. I even blamed myself since he was going out to pick up the Halloween costume I cried, begged. She is still mad as a hatter though. But is settling down more as time lapses.”“I’m glad she is getting over this some. Thanks, Ben you’re a good friend.”“I try to be, Ron.” and I left.After their divorce which finished after mine, Dolly wanted to go see her sister but did not have any transportation. I volunteered to drive her there. It was a nice day for a drive so we took the back roads there. I spent the day having a great visit and it became time to take Dolly home.We were driving along. More

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