The ocean returned my son’s boot

Dear Delyara, My son disappeared at sea last winter with three other fishermen. The coast guard searched for six days and found pieces of the boat, two empty fuel cans, and nothing else. This morning, a neighbor knocked on my door holding a rubber fishing boot that had washed onto the rocks below the lighthouse. My son’s initials were written inside in white paint. I recognized the crooked R because I painted it myself after he kept taking his brother’s gear by mistake. The neighbor said he was sorry, placed the boot on the porch, and left quickly. I carried it into the kitchen. Sand poured out across the floor. There was a small tear near the ankle that my wife had repaired with black sealant, and seeing her work on something that had been with him at the end nearly brought me to my knees. We buried an empty coffin in February. Everyone said we needed a place to visit. Now I have one boot and no idea whether it is comfort, evidence, or cruelty. I washed the salt from it, then immediately regretted removing the ocean. It is drying beside the stove. I keep expecting water to drip from it forever.