Part 2: Before my husband passed away, he asked me to deliver a sealed letter to a woman I'd never met — after she read the first line, she looked at me and asked, "Did he tell you everything?"

Rebecca looked toward the doorway.

Then her eyes widened.

"Emily?"

My daughter stopped walking.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Rebecca raised a trembling hand.

"My baby?"

Emily began crying.

I felt my heart split open.

She slowly approached the wheelchair.

Rebecca touched her cheek.

Then her hair.

As though trying to confirm she was real.

Emily knelt beside her.

"Are you Rebecca?"

The older woman nodded.

Tears streamed down her face.

"I looked for you."

Emily covered her mouth.

Rebecca whispered, "Every day."

I stood several feet away.

For twenty-nine years, I'd been the woman Emily ran to when she was frightened.

Now she was holding the hand of the woman who'd spent those years looking for her.

I expected jealousy.

Instead, I felt something heavier.

Grief for them both.

Rebecca looked toward me.

Her expression changed.

Then she whispered, "You raised her."

I nodded through tears.

"Yes."

She reached for my hand.