“We can hurt differently without destroying each other.”
Violet left.
***
Cecelia was born two weeks later in a quiet, uncomplicated delivery.
When they placed her against my chest, she tucked her thumb into her fist.
She went quiet.
Mark slept like that too.
“Of course you sleep like your dad.”
When Violet came to meet her, she asked, “Can I hold her?”
That question mattered.
I handed Cecelia over.
Violet looked down at her.
“Can I hold her?”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Cecelia yawned.
Violet smiled through tears.
“I knew your daddy when he didn’t have teeth either.”
For a minute, grief stopped fighting us.
Then, a few weeks later, I heard Violet talking to Mark’s aunt in my living room.
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