Part 1 — The Afternoon She Left Two Babies at My Door
There are moments in life that divide everything into a before and an after.
For me, one of those moments began with my daughter-in-law standing on my porch, holding two infant carriers.
My son had been gone only a few months.
Even now, after twenty years, I still have trouble saying that without feeling something tighten in my chest.
His twin daughters, Jennifer and Lizzie, had been only three months old when we lost him.
I was fifty-six at the time.
I was grieving my child while trying to help his young widow survive the kind of pain no twenty-four-year-old should have to carry.
At least, that was what I thought I was doing.
That afternoon, Kayla arrived looking exhausted.
Her hair was tied carelessly behind her head. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she wore the
distant expression of someone who hadn’t slept properly in weeks.
