Why I Visit the Cemetery Where My Parents Will One Day Be

I answered a work email on my phone while sitting here. Is that wrong?

“Are you alright?” my mother asked me one day a year or two ago.

“I mean, no,” I said, “but why should today be any different?”

This is what passes for humor in our house. When I say, “our house”, I mean, “our family” and, when I say “our family” I mean “the family we once were but still pretend to be when we can muster the energy to…