I Cried at My Daughter’s Grave Every Sunday for a Month – Then the Cemetery Groundskeeper Told Me, ‘Please Don’t Cry. You Don’t Know the Whole Truth About Your Daughter’

nails. Maya would’ve loved that. She loved messy hands.

I touched the daisies, then her name.

« No more roses, baby, » I whispered. « I hear you now. »

Katherine placed the tulips on Sadie’s grave, then came back.

« I think they would’ve been friends, » she said.