At the memorial site, two matching marble markers stood side by side, engraved with the girls’ names. Michael had placed them there when he was told that a severe out-of-state incident had separated his daughters from him permanently.
With no clear answers, no certainty, and no way to reach them, he created his own place of remembrance so he could speak to them, honor them, and find some way to move forward.
“Hi, my girls,” he would whisper. “Dad’s here.”
Talking to the markers became a lifeline. He spoke about the weather, the moments he wished he could redo, the memories that pulled at him. He spoke because silence hurt more.
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