Each year, my son planted sunflowers in memory of his twin sister who passed away—then one morning, we discovered them all cut down, with a white box left behind.

a new packet of sunflower seeds.

This time, Patrick planted them in straight, careful rows.

Emily pressed the last seed into the ground herself.

“For Lily,” she whispered.

Patrick nodded.

“For Lily.”

Then he tied a fresh white ribbon around a small wooden marker and wrote:

“For Lily. Still loved. Still ours.”

When he stood, he didn’t reach for my hand the continue reading …