I buried my son fifteen years ago.
His name was Howard. He was only four years old — far too young for a goodbye, far too small for a coffin.
Continue on the next page:
My son fifteen years ago
Buzz
I slipped the note under the pizza box so fast I thought my mother-in-law would see it: ‘Please help me. Don’t leave.’ When the delivery driver looked up and heard her snap, ‘She doesn’t need a phone, she needs discipline,’ his face changed.
“I slipped the note under the pizza box so fast I thought my mother-in-law would catch me: ‘Please help me. Don’t leave.’ When the…
