After my daddy died, I went through every transaction and receipt he left behind—hoping to understand not just what he spent, but what he was trying to fix or hide. Sometimes a withdrawal wasn’t what it seemed; it might have been a quiet apology, a bid for control, or a way to show care without saying so out loud.
I was searching for the story behind the numbers, and I’m still not sure I found it. But maybe by writing through 2020, I’ll finally be able to explain some of it to myself. At least, that's still my hope.















