As for the house, I didn’t redecorate right away. For several weeks I left some of the rooms almost empty, because I needed the silence, and I needed to be able to walk through the hallway without seeing black bags lined against the wall.

Eventually I began putting things back where they belonged. My grandmother’s quilt returned to the cedar chest at the foot of my bed. My parents’ silver photograph frame went back onto the mantel.

Cedric chose a bright green rug for his bedroom because, according to him, the old one looked far too serious.

One Saturday morning, we planted white hydrangeas beside the porch.

A year after the morning everything changed, Emilia came by with two coffees and a box of cinnamon rolls. Cedric was outside in the yard, trying to teach himself to throw a baseball against the garage wall without hitting the windows.

Emilia stood in the foyer and looked around the quiet house. “It still feels like a victory.”