It opened the door.
Catherine found Rebecca.
Emily found Rebecca.
Rebecca found Catherine.
I found Grace.
And Zane—
too late to participate—
finally allowed us to find the parts of him he had hidden.
Not all discoveries were kind.
But they were ours to carry now.
One evening, not long after Clara's first birthday, Emily came over with Rebecca and Catherine.
We cooked dinner.
Nothing ceremonial.
Pasta.
Salad.
Too much garlic bread.
At one point Catherine looked around my kitchen and laughed.
“What?”
I asked.
She shook her head.
“Thirty-five years ago, if you'd told me we'd all be eating pasta together…”
“You would have called police.”
“Absolutely.”
Rebecca smiled.
Emily reached for the bread.
Clara banged a spoon against her high chair.
I looked around the table.
My daughter.
Her biological mother.
Her biological grandmother.
My granddaughter.
No Zane.
No Daniel.
No Grace.
Absences remained.
Happy endings do not resurrect people.
