The Morning After My Son’s Funeral, an Airport Worker Called and Said, “Your Son Checked In”

line and said my name, she said, “Ray Coleman. I heard about your son. I was going to send flowers and I didn’t know if that was the right thing.”

“It was the right thing,” I said. “Yolanda, I need forty minutes.”

She gave me ninety.

I sat in a conference room on the fourth floor of the Justice A. A. Birch Building, in a chair on the wrong side of the continue reading …