The Groundskeeper Handed Me My Father’s Secret Instead of His Grave

after folding the page.

I am sorry I failed you.

The Man By The Cypress Trees

I folded the letter once, then again, and looked at the groundskeeper.

He’d moved maybe ten feet away and was trimming dead stems with a pair of rusted shears. He knew I was done before I opened my mouth.

“When did he give this to you?” I asked.

The old man set the shears down continue reading …