Finally, I asked why.
“I want to ask him why he said you’d throw Dad’s stuff away. You never did.”
So, with police approval and me beside him, Ethan was allowed a brief supervised conversation.
Derek tried to smile when he saw him.
“Buddy, I never wanted to scare you. I was trying to tell you about your dad.”
Ethan’s face tightened. “You told me not to tell Mom.”
Derek started explaining that adults sometimes kept complicated things from children.
Ethan interrupted him. “My dad wouldn’t make me lie to my mom.”
Derek had no answer. Neither did I.
On the drive home, Ethan stared out the window for several minutes before asking the question I’d been dreading.
“Was Dad really mad at Uncle Derek?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because he was six. Because Ryan was dead. Because I thought grief was already heavy enough without adding betrayal.
