Dad’s words are elusive. I have pages and pages of his later life, but those that reveal the brief period between leaving Marysville and graduating high school are sparse. They reveal little of what he endured or how he felt. [...]
Death. I imagine all the ways to deal with such an end. You can come up swinging. Or, you can allow it to be subsumed into a moment in which you become consumed by grief for that now dead world. [...]
When they cleared Marysville, Grandmother pulled over. Tears stained her dress. Uncle Keith, too young to get his license, begged his Mom to drive. Distraught, her distress alarmed the boys. They switched places. On the way to Santa Barbara, she [...]