For the first time in decades they had to work regular jobs.
Gregory now operated a cash register at a small neighborhood hardware store, and Evelyn worked the customer service counter at a discount clothing retailer where she folded shirts and processed refunds for minimum wage.
They contacted me exactly once.
A handwritten letter arrived at my corporate office begging for forgiveness and asking whether I could send them a small monthly allowance.
I did not reply.
I fed the letter into my office paper shredder and watched the pieces fall into the bin.
Forgiveness requires real change, and I had no intention of financing their comfort again.
I stepped away from the cheering crowd outside the innovation center and walked down the pathway toward my car.
The spring air felt clean and light.
For thirty three years I had been the family scapegoat. I was blamed for their stress, used whenever they needed convenience, and discarded the moment I stopped being useful.
But they never realized something important.
Being the scapegoat can become a powerful advantage.