Jonathan's apologies are works of art; they are three-act plays. He apologized, and I accepted that apology, therefore it must be over and done with. Except that I still feel the ring of those words. I still feel the weight of the abrupt realization of where I stand in the pecking order of Jonathan's life, the realization that if this, my mother's sudden death, is not significant enough, then there is nothing I can ever do to move up the order. The Missing Years