Vincent had left a note but no one would read it until after his
funeral. Aside from a priest and both his estranged parents, our
family were the only people present. His father shook Senior’s hand
and thanked him for everything he did for Vincent.
I always wondered what could make a man waste his life. How could
someone do that to themselves? What could bad enough to make live
unliveable? I didn’t know Vincent well when I wondered that.
By the light of the moon the boys returned to Vincent’s snowy grave
and built a small fire beside the headstone. They passed around a
bottle of scotch. Each time it reached the end of the line they
poured a splash onto Vincent’s grave. They talked about all the
crazy things he had done and all the reasons they would miss him.
Senior took a flashlight and opened Vincent’s letter. He almost
passed it on but neither Tommy nor Rider nor Tony wanted to read it.
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