One morning, I woke up early before my kids and my husband. I ran through the trails in my neighborhood, looking for I don’t know what. Looking for answers. Then that certain song played through my headphones. If I die young bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Take me away with the words of a love song. –The Band Perry I ran, and I cried for two miles straight. That was the same song on the radio that morning. September 4, 2012.   My Uncle Frank appeared in the river at dawn.  A jogger found him. He was dead. The next three days of September 2012 blur together.  Police calls and medical theories and the back tracking of steps.  Uncle Frank’s small container of an apartment scoured for clues.  Frank’s children taking his bus routes looking for breadcrumbs to how their father died. Did he fall, did he collapse, did he jump, was he pushed? Was he alone?  Our family asked why.  How?   Needed answers. The next days were the making of funeral arrangements.  The calls, the thousands of questions, the mystery of his death.  The movements of a family not … Continue reading Uncle Frank and Finding Your Music