Claire’s eyes filled immediately.
Not because she felt attacked.
Because she understood.
Every time Ari stepped away after a happy moment.
Every time she asked for Sarah’s lullaby.
Every time she stood quietly in front of Sarah’s pictures.
She hadn’t been rejecting Claire.
She had been trying to hold on to the mother she’d never known.
I closed my eyes.
The guilt came all at once.
Every question I’d rushed through.
Every story I’d cut short.
Every time I’d changed the subject because talking about Sarah hurt too much.
I thought I was protecting Ari from grief.
Instead, I’d taught her that Sarah could slowly disappear.
Claire stood quietly.
No one stopped her as she walked into the living room.
I feared Ari had broken her heart.
A moment later, she returned carrying Sarah’s framed photograph.
She didn’t give a speech.
She simply placed it on the empty chair beside Ari.
Then she pulled her own chair slightly farther back.
“Your mommy gets a seat too, sweetheart.”
Ari stared at her.
Claire smiled through tears.
“I don’t want anyone to disappear.” She gently touched the frame. “I’ve never wanted Sarah’s place.”
She looked at Ari.
“Would you tell me something about your mommy?”
Ari looked down.
“I don’t know enough.”
That sentence broke my heart.
I leaned forward.
“I do.”
Everyone looked at me.
“Your mommy couldn’t bake blueberry muffins,” I said.
Ari looked surprised.
“But Grandma says she could.”
NEXT PAGE
