with me when Sarah gave me the address.
“No son should have to search for his father alone,” he said.
The cemetery was nothing like the peaceful place with well-kept flowers and shady trees where my father had wanted to rest beside my mother. The ground here was dry, the crosses leaned crookedly, skinny dogs wandered between the graves, and plastic flowers had been scorched by the sun.
An employee led us to the very back.
“It’s this one,” he said, pointing to a rusted sheet of metal stuck into
