While I was on vacation with my cousins, my phone lit up with one message: “Get on a plane home. Don’t tell your parents you’re coming.” When I landed, an attorney and two investigators
I knew the story. My parents had a baby before me. A boy named Adam. He died at six months old from sudden infant death syndrome. I had seen the framed photo in their bedroom, the tiny urn on the shelf, the grief that never fully left the house.
