There was a piece of the truth in her anger because caretaking can rot a person if nobody ever bothers to see the cost of the labor. It can make generosity feel like a debt and it can make love start keeping receipts for every single kindness offered to a parent.
“Did you or did you not testify under oath that your daughter never served in the military?” the judge asked with a voice like a hammer. My mother had to admit that she had lied and the judge noted that her credibility was now completely destroyed in his eyes.
It did not feel good to hear that admission because it felt like a bone being set back into place without any kind of medical numbing. It was a necessary and painful moment that simply came too late to save whatever love we might have had left for each other.
The judge called for a brief recess and the room finally exhaled as the bailiff began to lead the witnesses out into the hallway. “Are you holding up okay?” Gwen asked me while she started to pack the medical records back into her leather briefcase.