Dad had told me the same thing he told Patrick: that this weekend was just about relaxing and celebrating him retiring after 42 years of work. He’d been a plumber for most of his life, raised two kids after Mom passed away, and never really took a break. We all agreed he deserved a few days away in that cabin.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of something—jealousy? hurt? Maybe both. Things had been tight for my family for years. My wife Rachel lost her job last winter, and I was working two shifts at the auto parts plant. We barely made rent last month. That check could’ve erased so much worry.
Patrick, of course, never struggled. He was the “responsible one.” Always saved, always invested, always got promoted. He and his wife had a fancy house, new cars, and kids in private school. He didn’t need the money.
