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

just did not need to know.

I threw all of that out.

Because after a while I understood that if I stood up in that courtroom and spent my four minutes talking about Tara, then she would have gotten the last thing too. The very last thing my son had left, which was somebody who would talk about him.

So I stood up, and I read this.

“My son was named David continue reading …