Celia was there, in a long-sleeved black minidress. She did not say hello to me. She barely looked at me. I stared at her, aching to walk over and grab her hand. But I didn’t take a single step in her direction. I was not going to use this loss of Harry’s to ease my own. I wasn’t going to make her talk to me. Not like that. Harry held back tears as John’s casket was lowered into the ground. Celia walked away. Connor watched me watch her and said, “Mom, who is that lady? I think I know her.” “You do, honey,” I said. “You did.” And then Connor, my adorable baby girl, said, “She’s the one who dies in your movie.” And I realized she didn’t remember Celia at all. She recognized her from Little Women. “She’s the nice one. The one who wants everyone to be happy,” Connor said. That’s when I knew the family I had made had truly disintegrated.