SAYING GOODBYE TO A GHOST

In September of 2019 — those innocent days before the coronavirus would have made a trip like this foolhardy — I took the train across Canada from Toronto to Vancouver. I did it because being trapped in a railroad car for multiple days seemed like the perfect way to think about death, and that was something I sorely needed to do. The plan was that as the train made its way ever west, my thoughts would travel inward attempting to give my brain and my heart a much-needed self-examination. Ultimately, I wanted to try and exorcise the ghost who had become my constant companion.

Eight years earlier, our 17-year-old son Jack took his own life. No one saw it coming. He was mad and then he did the unthinkable. I heard the shot and found him sprawled across his bed, his life dripping out of him and pooling on the floor. I can almost dispassionately write those words today because I’ve spent years