 Now here come my tears. They always do when I tell the story. I'm crying as I write this chapter. Why? I've asked myself so many times why do tears come without fail? Not when I tell this whole story but only when I relived the moment my dad touched me and said sorry and left. My answer is that I cry for two reasons. I cry for the dad I had but more than that much more than that I cry for the dad I never had the one I left when I was still a boy. How different would my life have been with him in it? How would he have been different with me? What joys, memories and special moments were stolen from my life and his and the lives of my children?