She said she hadn't realized how dangerous the road was.

She said she regretted what happened.

Kenny listened.

For several minutes, he said almost nothing.

Then he spoke.

"I hear you."

A pause.

"But I'm not ready to trust you."

Another pause.

"I don't know when I will be."

He ended the call.

I looked at him.

"What did she say?"

"She wants to see the children."

I waited.

"And?"

He shook his head.

"Not yet."

I nodded.

It wasn't easy.

But it was necessary.

Trust isn't restored because someone wants it back.

It has to be rebuilt.

Slowly.

Through consistent actions.

Weeks Passed

Life gradually returned to normal.

Not exactly the same normal.

A new normal.

Diane wasn't part of our daily life anymore.

The children occasionally asked about her.

We answered honestly without turning them against her.

Frankie remained the center of their world.

He slept more.

He walked less.

But every afternoon, he sat outside in the sunshine.

Sometimes Jillian would lie beside him.

Sometimes Laurence would read his books aloud to Frankie.

Frankie didn't understand the stories.

At least, I don't think he did.

But he listened.

And occasionally his tail moved.

The Day Frankie Couldn't Climb the Stairs

One evening, Frankie tried to climb the stairs.

He made it three steps.

Then stopped.

I saw him struggling.

I immediately went to him.

"Come on, old man."

He looked at me.

I helped support him.

Slowly, we climbed together.

One step.

Pause.

Another.

At the top, he turned and looked back at me.

I hugged him.

"You don't have to do this alone."

And as I said it, I realized I wasn't only talking about the stairs.

No one should have to face old age alone.

No one should be abandoned because they become inconvenient.

No one should become disposable because they are no longer as strong as they once were.

That was what had changed inside me.

I no longer saw Frankie's aging as something sad.

I saw it as something sacred.

He had given us sixteen years.

Now we would give him whatever time remained.

The Children Understood More Than We Expected

Jillian began drawing pictures of Frankie.

Every picture had the same elements.

A yellow dog.

A blue sky.

A house.