Chapter 22: The Men Go

My father went first.

He asked for nothing and he did not look back at the others.

He pulled the gold signet ring from his finger and held it out to my older brother.

"For your sister's grave," he said. "Put it where she cannot see it."

My brother took it, and closed his hand.

Then my father walked alone to the middle of the floor, where my mother had lain, and turned to face the high window.

Two men stepped up behind him.

I did not look away.

I had promised myself in the first hour that I would watch each one, and I kept it.

The sound was short.

My father went down on his knees, and then onto his side, with his white hair spread on the scrubbed marble.

His eyes stayed open, and they were pointed at the place where my chair had been in the dining room on Sundays.

I knelt beside him.

I could not touch his face, so I knelt there with my hands on the floor and looked at it.

He had taught me to ride a bicycle in the courtyard. He had told me the story of the bullet at every dinner.

Both of those were true, and I carried them together.

My older brother went next, with the ring in his fist.

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