Fabricating Claims of Mental Health Issues Is a Heck of a Way To Ruin A Family
I’d been away for the summer and my dad picked me up at the airport. That was the kind of thing he liked. He liked sliding into his Suburban. It was a climate-controlled, portable office that allowed him to lose himself in his music.He spent most of his time in his car, on the road, away from the house. Like all of us, he was escaping.I can’t remember him meeting me at the baggage claim. Back then you could meet at the gate without a ticket, but we would have met at the baggage claim. I can’t remember walking to the Suburban and loading up my things. I can’t remember him asking me how my trip…
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