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

The clock clicked.

Outside, the evening light faded over the garden.

There were still conversations ahead.

Records to preserve.

Payments to verify.

Visits to arrange.

And memories Melissa might want to explore when she felt ready.

But I no longer needed to solve everything that night.