I sink to my knees in the dirt and stare at the pyramid of flat white stones, with that pitiful cross of sticks on top.
The mutt starts exploring the area, sniffing around and wagging his tail with contentment.
It’s a nice evening, but I’ve lost the ability to appreciate beauty anymore.
“Brother,” I say, looking at the trees in front of me rather than the grave. “You should have been here for this. We should be going into this side by side.”
Silence greets me with brutal familiarity. Some days, I have trouble recalling that s**t-eating smile of his.
“I might be a father now,” I continue. “Esme will be past nine months at this point. She’s most certainly had the baby.” I run a hand through my hair. “And I don’t even know if I have a son or a daughter.”
I can hear the anguish in my own
