I believed visiting Dad’s grave would help me make peace with the past, but finding a photo of myself on a nearby tombstone sent chills down my spine. Little did I know that this unsettling discovery would lead me to a life-altering truth about my mother.It’s been two years since I lost my father to cancer—two years, four days, and what feels like a lifetime of sorrow. I vividly recall the day we learned about his stage IV lung cancer. It was as if the world came to a halt, trapping us in a nightmare from which there was no escape. Although the doctors immediately started treatment, deep down, we all sensed the battle was lost. Dad fought valiantly, but in the end, cancer prevailed. The news of his passing reached me through a phone call from Mom while I was at home in the city. Her voice, usually so strong, cracked as she broke the news. “Penny… he’s gone.” The memory of that moment is a blur of tears and frantic packing.
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In the past, it was customary for schools to commence each day with the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance.