While searching for bedding at a store, I saw bouquets of fake flowers and knew they were perfect for my father's grave. That's how I live now. I cannot talk to him or touch him or hear his voice. All I can do is buy flowers for his gravestone. That's my duty now. I maintain his burial place, wash the ants off the stone, stand on ground he is rotting beneath. It's unspeakable. It is my life.