Late Truth From My Father

Synopsis

Ten years in a row, ten Christmas packages, and I tossed the latest one aside without a second thought, like the past nine. The delivery guy knew me well by now; every December 23rd, the same return address, the same cardboard box showed up. For those first nine years, I'd dumped them straight into the trash, no need to even tear off the tape. This year, though, the box felt lighter, light enough to make me hesitate, if only for a heartbeat, before it joined the rest in the garbage. That night, as I hauled the trash can out, the box slipped out and hit the ground, splitting open along the seam. A plastic bag tumbled out, holding a medical record. I bent down to pick it up, my fingers fumbling as I flipped to the first page. Stomach cancer. Terminal. The name stared back at me: Richard Grant. It was my father.