I volunteered with a parent-support program at the hospital where Lily died. FindHospitals
Not because I’d become especially wise.
Mostly, I sat beside other people.
Sometimes that was sufficient.
Dr. Patel still worked there.
When he first saw me wearing a volunteer badge, he stopped in the hallway.
“Mrs. Vance?”
“Sarah.”
He smiled sadly.
“Sarah.”
I thanked him for trying to save Lily.
He lowered his gaze.
“We wanted more time.”
“So did I.”
Our conversation ended there.
David began sending letters from federal custody.
Initially, I returned them unopened.
Later, Margaret recommended keeping them because one mentioned finances.
I began scanning each for legally relevant details.
Most repeated the same words in different combinations.
Sorry.
Grief.
Mistake.
Please.
Family.
Forgiveness.
One letter contained six pages describing when his mother told him Lily was dead.
I stopped halfway.
His experience of learning about her death wasn’t another burden I had
