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.