I came back from a business trip, and the first thing my seven-year-old son said was, “Don’t go into my room.” Of course, I went in anyway.

funeral, my father called twice.

Then he vanished from our lives.

I had spent years convincing myself I did not care.

“What is that doing here?” I asked.

My father held the tin carefully.

Lauren glanced at the opening behind the toy chest. “Dad said Mom hid it in this room before you bought the house.”

I looked at him. “You knew it was here all this time?continue reading …