Jericho Barrons buried his son in a cemetery on the outskirts of Dublin, after five days of keeping vigil beside his lifeless body, waiting for it to disappear and be reborn wherever it was they were reborn. His son never disappeared and was never reborn. He was dead. Truly dead. I kept a vigil of my own at the door to his study, watching him stare at the beautiful boy through the long days and nights.
