Mom and Dad took me to the cemetery every weekend.
We visited Grandma and Grampa and me there.
Me, Bob Thomas Morton.
Well, not really me.
Mom and Dad had me late in their life, too late to meet Grandma and Grampa alive.
And too late to meet my older brother.
Also named Bob Thomas Morton.
They don’t talk about him ever.
And I’m not allowed to ask about him.
There’s no photos. None of his things. Nothing.
When they die, they want to be buried next to him.
And me?
Maybe I’ll just carve in my dates under Bob’s.