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

Same way Camden used to bring them.”

“Did you see who?”

“No. But I saw the truck leaving the back lane.”

I leaned in. “Whose truck?”

“Dark blue Ford. Older model. Plate was muddied up. Couldn’t read it.”

My father drove a dark blue Ford F-150 for fifteen years. The one with the cracked taillight he’d kept promising to fix.

Reagan told me he died a year ago.continue reading …