I met him in a restaurant. We were both leaving, so we both stopped on the sidewalk outside for a visit. What began as a casual exchange flowed into the sharing of deep feeling. A question about his family triggered a brief convulsion of distress and pain. He was estranged from his son. He’s done everything he could, so he thought, to bring about reconciliation, but there was still the tension, the strain, the cold, formal relating without genuine warmth. The fellow told me he dreamed about his son, and would awaken in the middle of the night and remain sleepless for hours, thinking about the painful estrangement. “And the guilt is wearing me out,” he said. “Despite my efforts, I am plagued with guilt, and I can’t get it out of my mind.”

I do believe that had I not had that exchange at tha…