His father looked at his own clenched fist, short of its mark, and his nostrils flared and his teeth gritted and he staggered backwards and yanked his arm free. He stared at Eddie with the eyes of a man watching a train pull away.
He never spoke to his son again.
This was the final handprint on Eddie’s glass. Silence. It haunted their remaining years.
All parents damage their children. This was their life together. Neglect. Violence. Silence. And now, someplace beyond death, Eddie slumped against a stainless steel wall and dropped into a snowbank, stung again by the denial of a man whose love, almost inexplicably, he still coveted, a man ignoring him, even in heaven. His father. The damage is done.
- The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom