I made my decision that day.
I would never tell the children what their father had done. They had already lost enough.
On Lily’s tenth birthday, I opened the box marked for her. Inside was a journal.
“My darling Lily,” Darla had written. “Write your dreams here. I’ll always be cheering you on.”
Lily held it close and cried. So did I.
My daughter left behind more than gifts.