At my son’s funeral, my daughter-in-law looked at me and said, “Dad, don’t cry anymore. I want you to pack your things and move out within 30 days.” I nodded, packed my luggage, and left. The next morning, a special guest… appeared in front of her house.
At my son’s funeral, my daughter-in-law did not offer me a tissue or a shoulder to cry on. Instead, she leaned in close, her expensive perfume fighting with the smell of wet earth, and pressed an eviction notice into my hand. ‘Thirty days to get out, old man,’ she whispered as the dirt thudded…
