When I called to tell my son that my wife had pass…

and suffocating at the same time. Every corner held memories of Margaret, but also the echoing absence of the son who should have been there to share this grief with me.

I picked up my phone one more time and dialed Marcus’s number. This time he answered, “What now, Dad?” “The funeral was today,” I said quietly. “Oh, a pause.

How did it go? How did it continue reading …