My son didn’t show up at my wife’s funeral. Hours …

you’ll be okay, she told me. I need to tie up all the loose ends. What if this wasn’t a loose end?

What if this was intentional? I looked around the cemetery one more time. Most of the mourners had left, heading back to their cars or to the reception at the church.

I pulled Helen aside. “I need to go home,” I said. “Of course you do.

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