When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed

David.

For twelve years, I wanted closure.

I hate that word now.

Closure sounds like a door.

The truth gave me more rooms.

When I thought David had vanished without explanation, grief centered on mystery.

After we learned what happened, grief expanded.

He had been alive.