“We Learned Our Daughter Was Switched at Birth — What We Found When We Tracked Her Down Was Worse” – The Archivist

on an upright piano the funeral home provided, the same nocturne that had been playing that first day in hospice.

Afterward, Richard pulled me aside and handed me one final envelope.

“She asked me to give you this after the service,” he said.

Inside was a handwritten letter in my grandmother’s elegant script:

My dearest Annabelle,

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