Seven Years After My Daughter’s Funeral, I Followed Her Husband to a Rehabilitation Center—And Saw a Woman I Thought Was Dead

“Not reliably.”

He looked down.

“She remembered things in fragments.

Sometimes she’d recognize Ava’s name.

Sometimes she’d ask why the girl in a photograph was so much older than the child she remembered.”

I thought of Ava’s school pictures.

Five years old.

Seven.