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Show 77l> he obliterated and outshined everyone around him. I wanted to tell him that the other side of anger is joy,,;%ie opposite t h a t edge of envy i s admiration, ''the root of resentment is the terror of ineptitude. I wanted to c o n f e s s , ' I did not know myself - I did not know my mothers or my brothers and s i s t e rs until except as appendages of you u n t i l I realized that you are a human being and not omnipotent. to _ But i t was, b i r t h d a y . It was time to be s i l e n t . I left early, before the other mothers spoke. The sky was still unloading thick flakes, but I was no longer afraid. Perhaps I would have time to stop, at the baby shower before I went home to Brian. For awhile I did not see my father again. After the brief storm, the weather became dry and dismally cold, and I wondered if spring would be skipped altogether. One day in April, I got out of bed, dressed quickly and called in a baby s i t t e r - I had dreamed that my father had died of a heart attack and that I grieved for a l l the things I hadn't told him while he was a l i v e . I drove across town and parked in front of his office, waiting u n t i l noon-time when the t r a f f i c across his step had cleared away. The waiting room was desertAe-~dA;. tthhep, D^caek* rooms were dark. Aunt Helga appeared in the lTi ghvt, e+d a A oofffifcice e aannad smiled dimly at me- "Is Daddy here?" My voice caught in my throat. "He's resting." f Q + h p r called from a darkened "Tell her to come m," my father caiie examining room. |