could silence an entire room.
I convinced myself grief had hardened him.
Dad was ninety now and lived in a nursing facility about twenty minutes from my house.
His body had grown weak with age, but his mind remained remarkably sharp.
Until Sophie walked into my kitchen wearing that sweater, I had always believed Dad’s silence was simply his way of surviving the loss of his daughter.
Then Sophie pointed toward the sweater.
“Dolly said you should look inside.”
I stared at her.
“Inside where?”
“Under the flower.”
She showed
