The Satellite Son and the Cane Son: When Money Can’t Carry Grief

outline on the carpet where the bed had sat, like a body chalk-mark after someone’s soul had been scraped out.

“David?” I called.

Nothing.

I moved deeper into the house, my shoes quiet on the old floorboards. I passed the hallway wall where I’d criticized peeling paint.

Up close, I saw something I hadn’t seen at the funeral.

There were small dents along continue reading …