Michael closes his eyes to think about this morning, and he's glad that he can nod. "Yeah, I think I grabbed a piece of toast and some of the eggs I made him," he admits, even if he'd been sort of numbly moving through the motions.

At least he's getting up, getting Luke ready for school, and eating. At least he's still talking. It's miles above the last time he was like this.

"I keep expecting it to go away," he admits, "the hurt, the ache, because it's happened to me so many times, but it's still just there."