I would’ve bet a heart could not ache anymore. But I was wrong.
There my boy sat, alone, waiting in that silent chapel for someone, anyone, to show up for his old man.
Danny gripped flowers. Even wore my favorite tie. The knot was tight, off-center.
That too was my fault.
I wished I could cry.
I was grateful to Bud, though. He was late — almost missed it all — but he came.
As shovels of dirt thumped on my coffin, my old cellmate consoled him.
Telling whoppers.
That hurt worst… my boy feeling proud of his old man and all.
