"What I regret most in my life is marrying this dancer."
At the funeral, my father's lover cried and fainted at his grave.
And my mother, the dancer who he called "unworthy of the stage," was feeding pigeons in Paris.
On the phone screen was a photo of her new boyfriend - a descendant of a French aristocrat.
"Baby, mommy taught you that a man is like an out-of-season dress, throw it away when it's time to throw it away."
I laughed and deleted the eulogy I had written for my father.
