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

shook. My vision shook.

You kept telling me “three weeks.”

I started counting my life in three weeks.

I held on because boys hold on to promises, even when they are old men in diapers.

Diapers.

There it was—one of the indignities we never say out loud at funerals.

The brutal reality behind the polite speeches.

I want you to hear this part, Davey, because continue reading …