Chapter 17 - THE THINGS CHILDREN CARRY
Lily admitted she still hated Christmas parties.
Liam Jr. admitted he sometimes resented how much attention Lily received after the incident.
Then hated himself for resenting her.
I admitted I had made Lily's trauma the center of the family because guilt was easier than grief.
We had all carried something.
None of us had carried it well.
One evening, our therapist asked Lily what she remembered about me walking into the ballroom.
She thought for a long time.
"I thought Daddy was mad at me."
That sentence destroyed me.
"Why?"
"Everybody stopped laughing when you came."
I had entered furious, shouting and ripping ribbon away. In my mind I was rescuing her. In her memory, another angry adult had arrived.
I swallowed.
"Were you scared of me?"
"A little."
I closed my eyes.
The therapist said, "Liam, stay with her."
I looked at Lily.
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged in the casual way children sometimes do with things adults can barely survive.
"You got me out."
"But I scared you."
"You were loud."
"I was."
She touched my hand.
"You're not loud now."
Afterward, Liam Jr. said, "You know what Grandpa never understood?"
"What?"
"Nobody needed to control the company."
I laughed.
"Apparently."
He looked at Lily walking ahead of us.
"He ruined everything for a vote."
"Yes."
Then my son said something I wrote down later.
"Adults always think the big thing is money. Kids remember the chair."
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Those were the things we had to heal.
Not the balance sheet.
