After my son passed away, my daughter-in-law told me, “Go home first.” I believed it was kindness, the kind of line people say at a cemetery so they look decent in front of family. That day in Chicago, the drizzle felt like needles, my coat clung to my shoulders, and my throat tightened like it was packed with stone, so I simply nodded and left.
After my son passed away, my daughter-in-law told me to head home first. Then, at the will reading, she said,…