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

took care of him. You handled it. It was horrible, and you handled it. And now he’s gone. We move forward.”

That was her superpower: forward. Always forward.

Mine, apparently, was dragging corpses back into the living room.

“He wasn’t taken care of,” I said. “He was managed.”

My wife’s jaw tightened. “Don’t start.”

I looked at the suitcase. “He kept packing.continue reading …