A Suitcase of Promises: How I Sold My Father’s Hope for Peace

” I told the kids too quickly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They left. But my wife didn’t.

She sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for months.

“We are not doing this,” she said. “We are not going to turn his death into some… guilt hobby.”

“A guilt hobby,” I repeated, stunned by the phrase.

She rubbed her forehead. “You continue reading …