有时在夜里,您的父亲醒了。他从床上升起,跨过房间,找到了抬高窗框的力量。他用他的声音很小的声音叫你的母亲的名字,他也叫你,你的兄弟乔。他呼唤米奇。在那一刻,他的心在洒了出来,所有的内gui和遗憾。也许他感到死亡的光线即将来临。也许他只知道你们都在他窗户下方的街道上的某个地方。他弯下腰。夜晚很冷。在他的状态下的风和潮湿太多了。他在黎明前死了。(Sometimes during the night, your father awakened. He rose from his bed, staggered across the room, and found the strength to raise the window sash. He called your mother's name with what little voice he had, and he called yours, too, and your brother, Joe. And he called for Mickey. At that moment, it seemed, his heart was spilling out, all the guilt and regret. Perhaps he felt the light of death approaching. Perhaps he only knew you were all out there somewhere, in the streets beneath his window. He bent over the ledge. The night was chilly. The wind and damp, in his state, were too much. He was dead before dawn.)