A year had passed since Tiffany died. The gray seasons of Michigan had come and gone, leaving behind moments of hope in the midst of hurt and wonder. Tom was in Rudy’s Market getting a six-pack of Faygo Colas, the kind that needed a bottle opener. He paid the kid behind the counter for the drinks then stepped out onto the sun soaked sidewalk. It was a beautiful summer day and downtown Clarkston was full of people heading to the park just behind the market for a concert. It was Jazz Band Saturday, a favorite of Tom’s. He made his way around the corner and walked to the park.

A trio was banging out some Dixie Jazz as Tom wound his way through families and couples on blankets picnicking and watching the show. A clown was entertaining kids not far from the stage. He continued th...

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