On Mother’s Day, a little girl appears at my door holding my son’s backpack—revealing a truth I was never meant to find.

says the horn is hardest. Ms. Bell said there wasn’t time before Mother’s Day.

I love you more than cereal breakfast.

Love, Randy.”

A sound left me before I could stop it.

Sarah began crying too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her sleeve across her nose again.

“There’s more in there.”

I found a crumpled sheet of paper folded small, like Randy had tried to continue reading …