I paid my mother back my going no-contact twenty-six years ago.

I paid my father back by calling him every morning to tell him I love him. To be honest with you, this one might be a little selfish. Every night for my entire childhood, my father would come into my room when he got home from work, would give me a kiss and tell me he loved me. I often woke up and would brush him away because he was disturbing my sleep and I was too young to know better. One night when I was five years old, I woke to find him sobbing as he tried to kiss me good night. I had never seen him cry before and I tried to comfort him as he had comforted me when I cried. He let me. He explained that his father had just died. As young as I was, I remember the torture he put himself through over the next few years wondering if he had been a good enough son and watching as remorse ate at him because he hadn't told his father he loved him often enough. It made an impression. So I've told him every day since then.

At least a few times a month he tells me, "I don't tell you this often enough, but I appreciate every single call." I don't know who gets more out of the calls any more.