Seven Years After My Daughter’s Funeral, I Followed Her Husband to a Rehabilitation Center—And Saw a Woman I Thought Was Dead
People brought casseroles.
The church provided chairs.
Neighbors sent flowers.
The minister spoke about memory, loss, and the love that survived a person’s death.
Ava sat between Dorothy and Calvin.
Her little feet didn’t reach the floor.
Afterward, someone handed me the sealed urn.
I signed the receipt.