I went to a nursing home to visit Marsha every week. She had only months to live. Every time she said1"I hate my father", I would2to persuade her to forgive.3a voice inside me was forcing a question: Isn't there somebody you need to4?
When I was young, my elder brother John5everything I did. In his eyes, nothing I did was right. I suffered from years of emotional6from him.
After college graduation, I began my career as a manager in another city, which gave me a ((n))7not to go back home often8I could avoid seeing John. Whenever I phoned Mom, she always provided9on what was going on with him. He didn't have a happy marriage. He lost his job as a bus-driver... But I10to feel sorry for him.
In my spare time, I chose to be a11. I really felt I was helping12I met Marsha. I told myself to help Marsha, but I was13to help myself first.
Finally, I14the courage to call my brother. There was15for what seemed a century and I had a strong desire to hang up, but I16. "Correcting you was the17way to show that I cared about you." he18. Then, something brother to brother returned.
We have stayed in touch and visited each other19since.
The last time I saw Marsha, she was too weak to talk, but her face was20. I knew what it felt like.
