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

said.

He nodded like he was confirming a rumor. Then his gaze dropped to my cart.

No beer. No party snacks.

Just oatmeal, eggs, soup, bland foods that don’t require effort.

He leaned closer.

“Hard on Dave,” he said. Not a question. A statement.

The way people talk about storms. Like the suffering was weather, not a system.

I nodded. “Harder than I knew.”

The continue reading …