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

No table full of old photographs.

Melissa had asked for one thing.

Dorothy’s blue notebook.

I placed it on the kitchen table.

Beside it was the bakery photograph.

Ava had arranged them herself.

Then she moved the family pictures into a drawer so Melissa wouldn’t feel surrounded.

I appreciated that.