Until one day it was simply too much, and years and decades of misunderstanding and missed connections crashed down around me, and I was inflamed with disappointment and rage and sadness. Twenty-three years’ worth, a lifetime’s worth. I moved out because I couldn’t breathe. I moved out because I was lashing out. I moved out because all of his attempts were too little, too late. I was suffocating, and he didn’t understand why. And no amount of explaining on my part made anything better. It made everything worse.