Every milestone was beautiful.
But every milestone also reminded me of the daughter who wasn’t there to experience it.
When Emma turned one, I wondered what Lily would have been like.
When Emma learned to walk, I imagined two little girls racing through the hallway.
When Emma turned three, I bought two cupcakes without thinking.
Then I remembered.
Only one child was sitting at the table.
At five, Emma began asking questions.
“Did I have a sister?”
I didn’t know how much to tell her.
But I never wanted to lie.
“Yes,” I said.
“What happened?”
“She died when you were born.”
Emma was quiet.
Then she asked:
“Was she like me?”
I smiled through tears.
“I don’t know.”
That was the hardest truth.
I didn’t know what my daughter looked like.
## Her First Day of School
Six years passed.
Then came Emma’s first day of school.
I woke up early.
I made breakfast.
I braided her hair.
I took approximately a thousand photographs.
She complained that I was embarrassing her.
I laughed.
At school, she held my hand tightly.
Then she saw her teacher.
She let go.
And suddenly my little girl was walking into a classroom without me.
I stood outside until the teacher gently closed the door.
I cried in the parking lot.
Daniel teased me later.
“You survived.”
“Technically.”
That afternoon, Emma came home carrying her backpack.
She looked exhausted.
She kicked off her shoes.
Then she walked into the kitchen.
I asked:
“How was your first day?”
She smiled.
“It was good.”
“What did you do?”
“We drew pictures.”
“Did you make friends?”
“Yes.”
Then she paused.
And said:
“Mommy, tomorrow can you pack another lunch for my sister?”
I froze.
## “What Sister?”
I tried to keep my voice calm.
“What did you say?”
“My sister.”
She looked confused.
“Lily.”
The kitchen seemed to disappear around me.
My heart began pounding.
“Who told you that name?”
She shrugged.
“Nobody.”
“You know Lily’s name?”
“Of course.”
I sat down.
“Emma, what do you mean?”
She looked at me.
“I met her.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Where?”
“At school.”
