"We stopped talking. I rocked back and forth on her bed, holding her close, reverting to the keening motion every human leans into when things get that bad. It was the same way I held my husband in August and again in September, and the same way he reached for me in November, the wordless soothing rhythm of a parent and child.

Our guests would be okay downstairs. We sat together in the dark. And I let her cry, and cry, and cry. Broken open, edges jagged, ready to grieve".