PAPERWORK!
I'd always known that my dad had a hard life, because I'd heard snippets of story from sources I can't recall. Jail time. Beating people up. But I never heard anything straight from his mouth, and I was too young to understand what it meant, anyway.
When I grew up and started wanting answers, my mom (my only source for a while) was evasive: "He had a troubled life." Through my brothers I heard supposition and counter-supposition from that side of the family.
When I became the "holder of the bags and boxes" that stored his records, I found the holy grail of paperwork. It included information about his court-martial, his youthful burglaries, his imprisonment, his time in the mental hospital, and his long period of awaiting trial for attempted murder.
All very lovely stuff to dig through. My wife can tell you what a joy I was to be around as I worked on this section of the labyrinth. Truth hurts, even if you know it already.
Then you lose the truth, or some piece of it, and you really feel like shit.
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