And then there was a photo of just my dad. Sitting on a park bench, his hair caught in a breeze. Bones the Beanie Baby was a blur clutched in his hand, partially cut off in the frame. He was looking at the camera with the barest smile, his eyes as close to sparkling as I’d ever seen them. Looking right at Halley. The photo was rimmed with a heart in blue Sharpie, and beside it, three words bled into the cardstock: He sees me.
