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

Inside were old school photographs, invitations, coupons, and several faded prints.

She searched carefully.

Then lifted a photograph from the bottom.

“There.”

I took it.

Dorothy stood beside a bakery display at the old market.

Melissa was seventeen or eighteen.

She was smiling toward someone outside the frame.