Lizzie sat on the side of Frank’s bed, tears brimming. While trying to organize what to do with his clothes, she’d found a box. When she opened it, she’d been overwhelmed and had to sit down.
Inside was everything she’d ever given her dad, all the way back to the hand outline Thanksgiving turkey picture she’d done in kindergarten. Dried macaroni noodles covered in glitter and glued to construction paper, strange little structures made from wooden ice cream sticks, her A-B honor rolls through elementary, pictures of her in her softball uniform when she was nine, school pictures, every birthday and Father’s Day card she’d ever sent. It was all here, tucked with great care into the box.
She also noticed he’d continued the trend more recently. Her high school, college, and police academy gra
