He cleared his throat and read.
"Jonah. If you're hearing this, it means I'm gone, and you're sitting in some lawyer's office wondering why an old man you mowed a lawn for four years left you anything at all. I'll tell you plainly, because plain is the only way I ever knew how to say things. My own children stopped coming around long before your mower ever crossed that street. Preston calls twice a year. Diane sends a card at Christmas with her name printed, not signed, by a machine somewhere. I don't say that to hurt them, only because it's true, and because I think you already noticed it yourself, all those Saturdays, even if you never said so out loud.
You never once asked me for anything. Not money, not thanks, not even conversation, most days. You just showed up. There were whole years of my life after Margaret passed where that lawn was the only thing that reminded me somebody in this world still thought I was worth showing up for.
