My 8-year-old nephew stayed beside his mother’s casket throughout the entire wake, refusing to move as he kept whispering, “Please don’t close it yet… Mom told me to wait until I heard the sound.

“Give me that.”

I stepped between them and took the phone from Leo.

“Why?”

“It’s mine. Rachel must have put it there.”

Leo shook his head.

“No, Dad. Mom said it was hers.”

The screen illuminated again.

There was no incoming call.

It was an alarm.

Across the screen were two words Rachel had apparently typed herself: