Chapter 8 - Six Months After the Headline
A year after the accident, the foundation had helped more than 3,000 families.
We funded emergency medical transportation.
Provided car seats.
Paid funeral expenses.
Helped children who had lost parents.
Every time we helped someone, I thought of Lily and Noah.
I imagined them somewhere peaceful.
Ethan would have been proud.
One afternoon, I stood outside the new foundation center.
A little girl ran toward me.
She couldn't have been older than five.
Her mother followed.
“Are you Claire?”
“Yes.”
The little girl held out a drawing.
I took it.
Three stick figures stood beneath a yellow sun.
“This is my family.”
I smiled.
“And who's this?”
She pointed.
“That's my daddy.”
Her father had died in a crash.
The foundation had helped her family.
I hugged her.
Then I cried after they left.
Not because I was broken.
Because I finally understood that grief could become something other than pain.
It could become action.
It could become love.
That evening, Melissa came to my office.
She carried two boxes.
“What are those?”
“Your things.”
She opened the first.
Inside were Lily's drawings.
Noah's toy cars.
Photographs.
I stared.
“Mom gave these to you?”
“No.”
“I found them in Dad's storage unit.”
I touched one drawing.
Lily had drawn our family.
Five figures.
Me.
Ethan.
Lily.
Noah.
And a tiny heart above all of us.
I cried.
Melissa sat beside me.
“I should have protected you.”
I shook my head.
“You were scared.”
“I still should have.”
I looked at her.
“You're here now.”
She nodded.
“I am.”
For the first time in years, my sister and I smiled at each other.
Not as rivals.
May you like
Not as daughters competing for approval.
Just sisters.
