The corners of her mouth were turned down.She cradled the parcel as a mother would cradle a child. She rememberedthe very first time he had tried to l...tch on, searching, struggling,crying. Her nipple had comforted him then. Her breasts were useless now.She slowly moved into the modest living room. She remembered that, inthis room, he had first crawled, first stood, and first said "ma-ma". Shecould still hear it: that sound of pure living joy. Silently, itresonated even now through the room.She. . it's m-my fault your father is dead."I was stunned. How could it possibly be her fault? "Mom, that's ridiculous. It was an accident ... an accident, that's all." No, baby. If it hadn't been for me, Bill wouldn't have been in that accident in the first place," she whispered.I stared at my mother in perfect incomprehension. "What -- Mom, what in God's name are you talking about?"She sighed, staring down at her hands. "On the day he died, right before he was going to work, I picked a fight with. More

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