Because of her brother, she never will be.

He gave her her walk.

And he hung her dress in the light, where she belongs.

I have thought a great deal, since, about the specific shape of what my daughter feared, and what my son gave her, because there is a truth in it that reaches far beyond our own family.

Lily was not afraid of dying, not exactly; she was five, and death was too large for her to fully grasp.

What she was afraid of, what she said aloud to her brother in that hospice room, was being forgotten.