The day everything started to fall apart for real did not begin with a twist or a shock. It began with silence. I was on my knees at my daughter’s grave, one hand resting on the cool stone, the other clenching a tiny silver locket so hard the edge dug into my palm. The cemetery in Burlington was as still as it always was at dusk. Trees moved just enough to stir the leaves but not enough to disturb the quiet. My wife, Vanessa, stood beside me in her dark coat, hands folded. After a while, she bent down and touched my shoulder….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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