Every January I Sent My Son-in-Law $40,000 for My Granddaughter. Then She Whispered, ‘Grandpa, Follow Dad.’

I forgot to breathe.

She walked down the steps, smiling at Mark.

He said something I couldn’t hear.

She laughed, tipped her head to one side, and reached for the bakery bag.

Laura.

My daughter.

The person whose funeral I had attended seven years earlier.

The person whose urn was sitting above the fireplace in my house.