Chapter 1: The Grave With My Name On It
Walking Through a Cemetery, I Saw a Grave with My Name and Birth Date on It – The Death Date Was Listed Just 3 Days After I Was Born
My name is Katherine, and I'm 28.
I grew up in one of the wealthiest families in our state, surrounded by expectations I never once fit into comfortably.
I loved animals more than etiquette lessons, wanted to be a veterinarian instead of learning which fork to use at a formal dinner, and quietly resented every gala, every business function, every one of my parents' polished friends who looked at me like I was slightly broken somehow.
Eventually, I became that veterinarian anyway, against my father's very clear wishes, and built a life mostly separate from the world I'd grown up inside.
Last week, my close friend Albert d*ed suddenly in a car accident.
At his funeral, walking away from the burial site afterward through the older, weathered section of the cemetery, a headstone caught my eye and stopped me completely in my tracks.
My name, engraved clearly across the top.
My exact birth date beneath it.
The death date engraved further down was listed just three days after that same birth date.
I stood there staring at it for a long moment, my whole body suddenly cold, taking a photo with trembling hands before I even fully understood why I felt I needed proof of what I was seeing.
I got in my car and drove straight to my father's office downtown, not calling ahead, not thinking clearly about much of anything except getting there as fast as possible.
I walked past his assistant without stopping and pushed his office door open without knocking first.
Inside, my father was in the middle of a full board meeting, directors, partners, shareholders, all seated around the long table, mid-presentation on some quarterly report.
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I walked straight up to his desk and dropped my phone down in front of him, the photo still glowing on the screen.
"What does this mean?!" I shouted, my voice cutting sharply through the entire silent room.
