Last Night I Found Your Headstone

Last night, I found your headstone. The picture peered at me through digital haze, blurry from 36 years of tears unshed — or perhaps I merely need new glasses.

I made the picture bigger, searching the granite stone for the details of the childhood I lost far too soon. Maybe they were etched beneath the letters of your name. The name that still makes me squirm and fight the urge to hide. Details I could not find.

I made the picture small again, wanting to click it away, close the screen and forget-like I’d done so many times before. My cursor…