At 2:47 in the morning, while my seven-year-old daughter was in critical condition in the ICU, my husband saw my calls and rejected them because he was in the Bahamas with the woman he had told me not to worry about

Day.

I laughed.

A broken, terrible sound.

Then turned off my phone.

David wouldn’t learn his daughter had died through another call he could reject. CompareBroadband

He wanted to be unreachable.

I decided he could have exactly that.

Completely.

Chapter 2: The funeral without her father

For four days, people asked me questions no mother should face.

White flowers or pink?

Open or closed casket?

Which photograph belonged on the memorial card?

What should Lily wear?

Her favorite song?

Burial or cremation?

I learned that grief involved endless paperwork.

Forms didn’t care that my daughter was gone.

The funeral home needed signatures.

The cemetery required authorization.

Her school needed notification.

The insurance company wanted figures.

I handled everything because nobody else could.

Rebecca offered to decide for me, but choosing Lily’s blue dress somehow mattered.

The one embroidered with tiny daisies that she’d worn to my mother’s birthday.

David had