Before My 19-Year-Old Son Died, He Donated His Heart to an 18-Year-Old Girl—Then Her Mother Handed Me a Letter: “Mom, There’s Something You Need to Know About Her”
Elena.
A name she loved.
No memorial obligation.
When I held the baby, I wondered whether Richard would have recognized any part of himself.
Then immediately thought:
Enough.
He had received enough narrative space.
Elena belonged to Maya and Daniel.