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“Yup, see you later. Oh, and by the way, don’t forget your fake ID.”

My heart dropped into my ballbag as she waved my bogus birth certificate around in her hand.

“You left this on the counter at the vendor. When I told the guy you were my son, he gave it to me to give to you,” she said indifferently. “You shouldn’t be so forgetful, Chris. Oh, and by the way, you’re grounded.”

I eventually tunneled my way out of my room six months later.

When I left Winnipeg in 1990 my mom meant everything to me, and that’s why I felt a lot of bitterness about her accident and still do. I was forced into a world of total responsibility at nineteen years old, and I wasn’t ready for it.

I was just a teenager and still needed my mommy, dammit!

Having to be so strong for her sake hardened me as a person and shaped how I am to this day. I feel like some of my innocence was taken from me, as I couldn’t lean on my mother the same way after her injury. I felt that it wasn’t fair to burden her with my minor problems when she was fighting for her life almost every day.

I also feel like I was robbed of sharing the joy and excitement that comes with growing up and becoming a man. She was never able to see my first apartment or help me decorate my first house. She wasn’t able to cook me spaghetti or carrot muffins or pizza or any of my other favorites (she was an awesome cook) that were her specialty. She was never able to come watch me wrestle in the U.S., or see my band play. But worst of all, she was never able to hold her grandchildren in her arms. That makes me the saddest of all. Ash hardly remembers his granny, and she passed away long before my daughters were born, and that tortures me still.

But she was the bravest, most courageous lady that I have ever met, and for good or for bad I’m just like her. I never would have made it as far as I have in my career or in my life if it hadn’t been for my mom. She was the best mother a little guy could ask for, always encouraging me in everything I tried and pushing me to follow my dreams, making me feel good about myself.

She was also a fighter, and I’m exactly the same; her Iron Will lives on in me forever.

Thank you, Mommy, for helping me become the person that I am.

I love you and I miss you every day.

A week after the funeral, I got an email from Danny.

He’d gotten my message about her service and apologized for not having the courage to attend. Then he went on and explained everything that happened on the night of my mom’s accident. I’d never heard the real story before, because I’d never had the guts to ask. I was always a little afraid to learn the details of my mom’s injury, and instead of inquiring, I chose to let my rage toward Danny fester and poison me for over a decade.

But after reading his letter, he suddenly became human again.

I turned his email around in my mind for a few days, then wrote him back demanding he answer a list of questions about their relationship, before and after that fateful night. He wrote detailed answers to every single one of them and made it very clear that my mom’s accident tortured him every day and essentially ruined his life.

That’s when I realized he wasn’t a demon from hell who had meticulously planned out the crippling of my poor mother. He was just a guy who got into an unfortunate argument with his girlfriend and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I wrote him back, I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him he was forgiven, but said, “After all these years, I think you owe it to yourself to live your life and not let what happened to my mom torture you anymore.” It was time for both of us to let go of the anguish and resentment about what happened and move on with our lives.

When I pressed send and the email disappeared off my computer screen a ten-ton weight disappeared along with it. I was released from the chains that had bound me for so long, and was finally free. I hoped that Danny could feel the same way, but I’ve always feared