ABSTRACT
In a matter of hours, my father went from a state of agitation to despair. Pacing the bedroom, he railed against his boss for denying him a promotion. It was not the first time my father had been held back professionally, the victim of an unfortunate tendency toward belligerence I would see many times as I grew older. My beleaguered mother tried to calm him, alternately speaking soothingly and begging him to keep his voice down. Sometime before midnight, he collapsed on the bed and fell into her arms. My mother, a nervous woman with striking hazel eyes, cradled my father as he burrowed his head into her shoulder and wept. When he finally calmed down, she called my father’s psychiatrist, who set up an appointment for the next morning.
