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By Root 277 0

we could make another donation from the money that had been raised for Madeline and me during the 5K. I had already sent a two-thousand-dollar check to Jackie and given one thousand in cash to the receptionist at Dr. Nelson’s office, whose boyfriend died when she was a few months pregnant. Giving the money away provided me with an enormous sense of pride and convinced me that we could do so much more to help people in situations similar to mine—worse than mine. Liz would have been proud and happy to know what was being done that weekend in her memory, but honestly, she would have been in disbelief that I was the one behind it. She’d be more than a little surprised that I was not only doing a bang-up job of taking care of our kid, but that I was taking time to help others as well.

I picked Rachel up on Saturday morning, and we drove into the Minnesota countryside with Maddy asleep in the back. We were having a rare moment of quiet, though I was sure that as soon as she opened her eyes, we would once again be treated to a steady stream of baby babble. I was actually excited. We were on our way to see Bob, whose mother had approached me at the 5K a few months earlier. We wanted to fulfill the promise I had made to her: that I would help however I could.

Driving toward his home in the small town of Albertville, Minnesota, I had no idea how he would react to our visit or to the fact that we were bringing him a check for one thousand dollars, no strings attached. I knew he could use the money, but still, I didn’t know whether he would be okay with a pair of strangers stopping by his house. It might be completely fucking awkward for all of us, but I felt confident that the good we were trying to do would be recognized and welcomed.

When we arrived, Bob’s mother-in-law answered the door; he was standing behind her. As soon as Rachel and I introduced ourselves, this woman’s anger became obvious—not just about her daughter’s death, but about everything. She went on and on about the hospital and the doctors who “killed” her daughter, saying there was “nothing good in the world” now that her daughter was dead. I wanted to point out that she had a grandson who was proof that there was some good in the world, but I’m not one to lecture anyone on how they should feel pain. Their situation was different than mine, and since I didn’t have all the details, I just nodded in agreement and attempted to talk to Bob. Besides, I had definitely learned since Liz died that everyone grieves differently.

When I got Bob away from her, his entire demeanor changed. He went from quiet and withdrawn to talking vivaciously about the woman he loved who had died not long after giving birth to their child. Our kids played in his living room, and he walked me around his house, showing me photos of his wife, telling me bittersweet stories of their time together, and talking lovingly about his son. He was so much different than I had pictured him after meeting his mother in September. I assumed he’d be sullen and angry, but despite his circumstances he actually seemed pretty happy. And he was unabashedly grateful for the money that we brought to him. He thanked us, and as he walked us out he offered to help us in any way that he could in getting the foundation off the ground.

I felt pretty fucking good as we drove away from Bob’s house. “This is your mother’s legacy,” I would be able to tell Maddy later. “This is how we will honor her.”

Madeline was asleep when we arrived at the house. After an emotional Thanksgiving trip home and now a late-night arrival, I was thrilled to finally be back in Los Angeles. I gently placed her on the floor next to the couch and did my usual inspection. I went from room to room, checking out the cleaning our friend Elizabeth had done while were away. I walked into Madeline’s room and saw three huge plastic bags filled with clothes that no longer fit her. More donations, I thought. I couldn’t believe how big my kid was getting. There was a time when I thought she’d never outgrow her clothes—never grow into them—but here I