He Told Me to Choose Him or My Dementia-Stricken Father—So I Did

on the top shelf, was the box I’d been avoiding.

The box with our wedding photos.

I pulled it down and opened it.

There we were, smiling so hard our cheeks looked like they might split.

Mark’s arm around my waist.

My head on his shoulder.

We looked like a commercial for happiness.

I stared at that younger Sarah for a long time.

Then I whispered, “You didn’t continue reading …