I doubt Mom would admit to something like that now.
Dad was cremated, and, like Fluffy the goldfish, flushed down the toilet. Years after the Nevada Highway Patrol came knocking on our door, my mom still looked like she wanted to gut Dad with his own hunting knife anytime my sister Candy or I were brave-or stupid-enough to mention him.Ī few days after Dad died, I forgot to feed the fish and we had to bury it, too. Mom never said why, and even at that age, I knew better than to ask. He’d just left us and had been headed for California. Five days later, he died in a car accident on I-80. When I was eight years old, my dad won a goldfish at the county fair. May God’s light forever shine through the pieces and brighten the world around you. And to all the beautifully broken people. To the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All names, characters, and places are fictitious.
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