Their grandmother's house: white paint peeling brown trim split splintered and dangerous if you're two boys running hands along the door frame waiting for someone to answer. Since before my older son was born the dried-up year-round Christmas wreath dangles a ratty red bow. Rusted the bell can't jingle. Babcia, Polish for grandmother from Buffalo, fled to San Francisco in the 50's to be a beatnik ended up just beat waiting tables three kids never made it to nik. She thinks maybe the guy with the shopping cart gets a laugh when he rattles past. She laughs at the possible laugh the sight of her dead wreath might give. Never mind how ugly 15 years of ugly is.

My sons' father dead a year. Sudden stroke in sleep long-time coming. His car not here before but here now. Installed in the driveway, fucked up Volvo full of his fucked up stuff and no doubt some of mine. This tomb oozes sheet music boxing gloves wooden spoons blood tests garbage bags restraining orders beach towels divorce papers snapshots beer cans empty and full.

Babcia invites them and even me to Easter brunch. I had no plan to stay just drop off. Thirty minutes they said come back in 30. But from the glass pane a peek beneath the wreath then the grandmother lurches dressed in their dead father's fringed nylon shirt. Fringe dangles from the sleeves keyboard neck scarf tie with piano keys. His crucifixes of every size cascade from chains of every length down her old Babcia chest the way they used to his rock star wannabe.

I stay. We toast. Wine apple juice apple juice wine and talk of school and plays and summer plans then the gift before going. It's Easter so chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps but no. An ancient Magnin's shopping bag stored damp and molded for just such an occasion shoved into my sons' hands neither looks inside. They flee the house toss the bag in the back of our car. We speed away safe at home they look cry no. Drop the bag at my feet. I don't guess no guess can predict. What every boy wants for Easter: several dozen pair of dead dad's underwear.