His words hurt, especially because part of me knew he wasn’t entirely wrong.
After arranging for his damaged cast to be checked, I called Nathan. He admitted he’d known about the cancer since Conor’s biopsy and had driven him to an appointment.
Then I called our daughter, Tilly.
She knew, too.
So did Conor’s sister, Amanda.
Everyone had supported my husband through his diagnosis, while I’d been left completely in the dark.
When I confronted Tilly, she said something that stayed with me.
“Mom, you love everyone by fixing things. Sometimes people need time to be frightened before they’re ready to make plans.”
I was hurt and angry, but I began to understand that the situation was more complicated than I’d thought.
A few days later, Conor asked me to accompany him to his next appointment.
“Do you want me there as your wife, or because you need someone to organize everything?” I asked.
