Dad

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Through the doors of the funeral parlor, Ned sat alone. The showing had been quicker than he'd imagined it'd be. Family and friends said their silent goodbyes and shared hugs and words of strength with him. None of it, though, would heal his aching heart or remove his worry for his silently suffering children. Charley had been shattered at the sight of her mother—rightfully so, she was barely recognizable.

Ned didn't know what he would do now that it was over, his marriage gone. He knew his kids wondered the same thing. It would be hard for a man his age to start over. He thought back to the last day he had with Sandy. It was like every morning, he was up after her. Instead of coming down and kissing his beautiful wife, he snagged the newspaper and plopped down in his recliner. He'd tuned out her typical nonstop chatter about Charley, and he felt guilty he hadn't listened to her. However, he had listened as her high heels clicked down the hallway and the jingle of the keys in her hand. That was his cue to lean a little farther back in his recliner, knowing she'd be gone for the day. He'd heard the same words she spoke every day as she made her way out the door. "Goodbye, Ned, have a great day, honey." She'd always wait a couple extra seconds hoping he'd get up and kiss her goodbye, but he never did. In fact, he was too worried about the time he would have alone and rarely ever actually listened to her anymore. He figured this was what relentlessly pained him now. He kept going back to that day when Sandy came rushing in the door, in a panic and talking about her patient. He was becoming more and more aggressive and telling her things she didn't want to hear.

Ned leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to recall the name. He knew it wasn't Sam as the newspapers had reported. If he'd listened more carefully to what his wife had said, he might be able to help the police locate her real killer, and in so doing, allow Sandy to rest in peace. 

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