When My Child Mentioned “Aunt Phoebe,” Everything Fell Apart

yours to begin with.

That night, I tucked Noah into bed. He stared up at me with sleepy seriousness.

“Is Daddy sad?” he asked.

I swallowed. “Daddy made choices that hurt people,” I said carefully. “And yes, that can make him sad. But it’s not your job to fix that. Your job is to be a kid.”

“Okay,” he whispered, hugging his stuffed dinosaur—the one he’d continue reading …