missing from the photographs. Look at the children. I’m still there.
I read it again.
Then I looked toward the floor.
Mia and Owen were still covered in cake, fighting over a ribbon from Daniel’s box.
Owen smiled.
It was Daniel’s exact crooked smile.
Mia frowned while concentrating, creating the same tiny crease between her eyebrows that Daniel used to have.
For the first time since his death, I looked at my children without thinking only about what Daniel had missed.
Carol sat quietly beside me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
