The globe at the top of the stairs, marking the subway station’s entrance, was still dark. It stood quietly at its post, a dark silhouette against the early evening sky.

It was 12:48 when our rented SUV turned off the narrow country road into the middle of nowhere. The Oak Hill Cemetery near Patoka, Indiana, was to be the final resting place for our father.

“Let go!” she screamed and tried to pull away, but I held her tight. I had taken her by surprise. “Let me go!” she screamed louder and tried a different tactic. Her body went completely limp.

There have been many unforgettable experiences in my life. Vivid images hang like treasured paintings in the hallowed halls of my memories.

My weary body found rest immediately, but it took much longer for the mind to arrive. Sleep came in fits and spells. I drifted in and out of a dream..

It was a nearly two-hour grueling trek, but finally, I found an acceptable campsite. The night was falling rapidly, and of all the tasks I had to perform..

I’d come halfway around the mountain to return to a place I’d discovered several days before. Somehow it seemed different, yet still strangely familiar to me then.