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

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mouth work.

David had not been alive at five that morning. He had not been standing at an airline counter. He had not been boarding anything to Miami.

But someone had checked him in.

Or David had arranged something before any of us understood what was coming.

I drove the twenty-two miles with both hands locked on the wheel, passing roads I had known for continue reading …

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