Looking back, from beyond Death’s door, I see with new clarity the path of my life. Without the veil of vanity, delusion and horror-struck grief, I stand witness to the choices I have made, and I am comforted to find that, regardless of consequence, they were nonetheless always guided by honorable intent.

I cannot truly regret any of them, save one. I would that our last words had not been so hard; I would that I had died with love of you, rather than pride, upon my lips.

Dare I hope that a better son may forgive a bitter father?