Each year, my son planted sunflowers in memory of his twin sister who passed away—then one morning, we discovered them all cut down, with a white box left behind.

before the heat set in. I remember thinking how grown he looked standing in the kitchen, tall and thin, hair sticking up in back the way it had when he was little.

We went outside together.

Then Patrick stopped.

At first I didn’t understand what I was looking at.

The garden looked wrong.

Too flat.

Too empty.

Every sunflower had been cut down.

Every single continue reading …