for teaching him that sometimes simply being present was enough.
Under the photograph was an engineering specification for the bridge he had been proudest of designing.
It was a pedestrian bridge from early in his career.
Dad had written another message in the margin.
He wanted me to walk across it someday.
Preferably with someone I loved.
Then I looked at Eric.
His envelope contained only one object.
A key.
And a card.
The message directed him to Dad’s garage.
Far-left cabinet.
Behind the paint cans.
Something was waiting there that Dad believed Eric should have received years earlier.
We went back to the house still dressed for the funeral.
Mr. Lawson followed us.
Eric found the tall cabinet.
The old key fit perfectly.
Behind several paint cans was a large flat package wrapped in brown paper.
Eric carried it to Dad’s workbench.
Then he opened it.
Inside was an
