For the first time since the bad news, I was really excited! I barely contained myself when my grandmother let me be the one to look through her things. I rummaged through his suitcases, looking for some clue as to where he might have gone. I smelled his shirts, taking in the musty smell of the cologne he liked to wear. I threw all the clothes on the floor to examine them better. There was nothing. Then suddenly I found a letter in one of the side pockets that was addressed to me. At first I hesitated to open it because it was as if time had stopped for that moment; it seemed like my father had never disappeared. I imagined he would tell me what his plans were over there and every detail of why he left me. I opened it as carefully as possible because if that letter was truly the last memory I had of my father, I wanted to keep it exactly as he had it forever. It