38

I’m not sure how long I stood on the green of the ninth hole of Twickenham Country Club. It could have been thirty minutes. It could have been three hours. I lost all track of time. Eventually, I sat down on the damp dew-stained grass, crossed my legs, and bowed my head.

And I cried.

I prayed and asked God to forgive my sins.

I cried some more.

And then, somewhere in the darkness, I took my father’s final advice. I closed my eyes and spoke the words out loud.

“I forgive you, Randy. You’ve made mistakes. You’ve failed. I forgive you.”

I forgive you.

I forgive you.

I took a deep breath and exhaled.

I forgive me.