IT LED ME DOWN A DEAD-END STREET TO A DOOR I’D NEVER SEEN — AND WHEN IT OPENED, I MET THE PART OF MY SON’S LIFE HE NEVER GOT TO TELL ME ABOUT.
PART 1
A strange dog sat at my son’s grave every day — one day, I decided to follow it.
My name is Diane, and I lost my son Caleb three years ago, at just nineteen, in a car accident that still doesn’t feel real most mornings when I wake up.
I visit his grave every Sunday.
For the past several months, I noticed a dog there almost every single time — a scruffy mixed breed with no collar, always lying quietly beside his headstone, gone by the time I left.
I asked the groundskeeper about him once.
He just shrugged and said the dog had been showing up for a while, and nobody seemed to know where he came from.
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