I stepped into my eight-month-pregnant daughter’s funeral with lilies choking the air. Her husband stood by the coffin—smiling—his arm around a woman I’d never seen.
Lilies filled the air inside St. Mark’s Funeral Home, their heavy sweetness turning my stomach. My eight-month-pregnant daughter lay in a polished mahogany coffin, her belly still rounded beneath the satin. She should have been decorating a nursery, not lying still under soft lights. My hands clenched until my wedding ring bit into my skin….