Our family was flying on a Make-A-Wish trip for my sick son — halfway through the flight, the pilot said, “Mike, there’s one thing about this trip that you and your parents know nothing about.”

remained open across our knees.

Mike died that winter, six months after our flight.

On his last afternoon, snow covered the backyard and softened the shape of the soccer goal.

I sat beside his bed holding the crayon boarding pass.

His breathing had become shallow.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Mike’s eyes opened slightly.

“Somewhere better.”

I placed the continue reading …