Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”

Then looked at him.

“Your turn.”

He took her.

For a second, I saw the photograph of him holding Melanie.

Then the image passed.

Lucy was Lucy.

Melanie remained Melanie.

There was room for both.

PART 57 — THE FOOTPRINTS

The hospital took Lucy’s footprints.