woods a tractor seat s well worn cushion a screwdriver a peanut in the side pocket receipts for welding equipment the remnants of a good cotton season beige hallways with no art pocket contents flower arrangements in three rooms
I wished to write beautiful words about grief, but all I really have is the truth:
My father died on Jan 20, 2013. I hadnt seen him in seven years. I missed his funeral. And then I went home anyway. I loved him, and he loved me.