My daughter was mocked for standing alone at the father-daughter dance — until a group of Marines walked into the gym.

She watched the dance floor, eyes wide and hopeful, but when the slow song started, the weight of missing Keith seemed to press her smaller.

“Mom?” she whispered. “Maybe… maybe we should go home?”

That almost broke me. I took her hand, squeezing until my knuckles hurt. “Let’s just rest for a minute, my love,” I said.

She watched the dance floor.

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