We recapture these lives of our parents and forebears to give us some testimony of the truth as it was once received, and we give honor to pain and forgiveness for mistakes, but the blood begins fresh with each child, and flows only within that child, and dries to dust in that body when all is done. There is sadness in that for Harry, because he would like to undo what was done to his father. But there is also mercy in it, Harry recognizes. One life, one’s own, is plenty. He’d come home, carried the sleeping girls to their beds, and kissed his wife good night, and now that he had sat down to make this call, his deepest thoughts were only for himself. How grateful he was for his blessings. How hard he would try to preserve them and earn them anew.