home who did not know their sister was gone.
The days after your child dies don’t move like normal days.
They pull.
I remember pieces.
Telling Theo.
The change in his face.
Wyatt not understanding and then suddenly understanding three hours later in the bathtub.
I remember the casserole dish still sitting near the door.
And I remember the funeral because that was when my family finally appeared.
They came in dark clothes with louder grief than I had heard from them in years.
My mother cried harder than anyone
