Instead, I found the crooked little cardboard jewelry box Liam had given me after the restaurant meeting.

He had made it from scraps, decorated it with paper stars, and written a note saying he would buy me a real one when he grew up.

I placed the box on the shelf beside our family photographs.

Inside it I kept the bracelet he had braided at summer camp, a small drawing from second grade, and a note he’d tucked into my lunch bag one morning: Don’t forget to have a good day.

For Christmas we made pancakes shaped like trees.

Mine looked like lopsided triangles.