The pathologist. The evil, evil being, I imagined, who had done unthinkable things to my child to try to determine why she had died. Things I somehow had to let her do, because I couldn't sit with not knowing why she had slipped from us so suddenly.
What it really is about is how we walked out of that meeting, and it was 8:30 in the morning on a Friday morning, and it was warm, and fresh, and the sun poured down on our faces. It was bright and green in a way that only early June displays in Massachusetts; everything was absolutely brilliant and especially in contrast to the three weeks of rain we'd had.
We walked over to Smith College, and we walked through the gardens together, holding hands. Everything was bursting with life, in full bloom. Beauty was all around us. The sun just shone, shone, shone. We could feel it.