Chapter 8 - MY FATHER’S APOLOGY
Robert came to my house alone.
He sat at my kitchen table.
For once, no grill.
No guests.
No audience.
“I owe Khloe an apology.”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
“Yes.”
He almost smiled.
“You could make this easier.”
“I’ve been making it easy for sixty-six years.”
He nodded.
At the BBQ, my father cared more about avoiding embarrassment than discovering why his granddaughter was terrified.
Why?
Because Robert Parker believed family problems became real only when outsiders saw them.
His father had been the same.
Protect the name.
Handle it privately.
Don’t ruin the party.
He had taught us that appearances were a form of safety.
They weren’t.
They were camouflage.
Robert apologized to Khloe later with a child therapist’s guidance.
No dramatic kneeling.
No gifts.
He said:
“When you were scared, Grandpa should have listened.”
Khloe asked:
“Why didn’t you?”
He answered:
May you like
“Because I was worried about the wrong thing.”
That was probably the most honest sentence my father ever spoke.
