1. Where has he rotted most? A slick brown mahogany casket, or in you? Does your body recall every night he was not there? Or every night he was?
  2. Do you wish he’d come back? If given the chance—you or him—would you even consider your options? How do we begin to forgive our fathers? How do we begin to love them without a face to put to the name?
  3. Have you cried yet? Have you considered the empty halls of a ranch-style house? When was the last time you sat in bed with the lights off and spoke to yourself? When was the last time you sobbed and cried into your pillow? Do you let the tears drip down your face? Do you still let your father make you cry? 
  4. Did you ever really love your father? Did you ever even like him? Did he ever even like you? How long do you think it will take to pick out the shattered pieces of the steel blade he left in your side? To pick each and individual letter and word out of your brain? Do you want to do that?
  5. Would you go back? Would you go back to the days of melting next to his living room chair? Would you go get his beers for him as he gets drunk on Thursday afternoons? Does grief make us misremember? Do we just idealize the dead and call it “good times”? Did you love your father then? Do you love him now?