I had some private time to say farewell at the funeral home.
Wearing the navy suit he had worn to Daniel’s graduation, Thomas laid there.
I chose it because I wanted him to wear something that brought back memories of one of our best days together.
He had his hands folded. His expression remained motionless.I reached out to touch his hair and whispered, “They cut it too short.” “You never wore your hair this short.”
As I had done countless times before, I smoothed it back.It was trimmed too short.
At that moment, I noticed something that shouldn’t have been there, right above my late husband’s right ear.
At first, it appeared to be merely a faint blur, but as I moved closer, it became more apparent.
It was a tattoo.
As is common with vintage tattoos, the ink had softened with time and was a little fuzzy around the edges. It hadn’t been carried out lately.
Two sets of digits, divided by decimal points, were visible beneath the thinning gray hair, which was suddenly trimmed just short enough to reveal what had always been concealed.
coordinates.
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