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<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
Dad struggled to find words.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was no aggression, no entitlement, just exhaustion and hope that someone might see him as a person.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe has a wedding ring.\u201d Dad held up his hand, still wearing it, even though it\u2019s probably worth money he desperately needs. \u201cThat tells me he loved someone, that he had a life before this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s expression shifted, still uncertain but listening.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd when I opened the door, he stepped back, gave me space, didn\u2019t try to push in, didn\u2019t pressure. He was ready to walk away if I said no.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo why didn\u2019t you say no?\u201d I asked. It came out more challenging than I intended.<\/p>\n
Dad looked at me. \u201cBecause I know what it\u2019s like to be invisible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLauren, what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI grew up poor. Really poor. We didn\u2019t have much. And people looked through me, like I wasn\u2019t there, like I didn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n