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

say, ‘My son promised.’”

I felt my face burn.

“And then,” she said, “sometimes the dementia would clear, just for a moment. And he’d look at me—right at me—and he’d say, ‘He sold it, didn’t he?’”

My heart slammed.

I looked up. “He said that?”

She nodded slowly. “Not often. But yes.”

My mouth went dry. “What did you say?”

“I asked him how it made him feel,continue reading …