They Held My Funeral While I Was Still Breathing. Then My Seven-Year-Old Nephew Looked Into the Coffin and Said, “Mommy, Aunt Madelyn Is Looking at Me”
Not out of love.
I went because I needed the truth for my own sake, so I could stop lying awake assembling it myself.
They brought her into a small room at the prosecutor’s office.
My whole life I had been the sister who cried first, the soft one; Delilah was always the composed one.
Not that day.
That day the tears ran down her face and did not stop.
“I didn’t think you were going to wake up,” she said.
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