I Taught My Son to Ride and Three Weeks Later I Had to Bury His Helmet

new leather riding jacket in my size. On the inside of the collar, stitched in gold thread:

For the old man who taught me. — C

I sat down on the concrete floor of my garage, next to the bike my son had built for my fifty-second birthday, and I wept the way a man weeps exactly once in his life.

This ended up being the end of my world.

It also ended up being continue reading …