That evening I wrote to Hannah in my notebook: We went to the park.

Chloe petted a dog.

We did not ask her to finish your list.

I think you would be glad about that.

I read the sentence twice before closing the book.

Grief had taught me to hold tightly to what I loved.

My daughter’s letter was teaching me something harder: how to let love make room for another person’s freedom.

PART 20: A Different Kind of Answer