Her Voice Didn’t Bring Closure—It Brought Permission

“She said, ‘Dad, it’s time to let me go.’ And then the garage door closed.”

That wasn’t a metaphor. It was a dream. But it felt more real than anything Harvey had touched in months.

Because up until that moment, he wasn’t really here. He was surviving. Functioning. Protecting his son. But not living.

And then she came. Not to say goodbye—but to release him.

Grief doesn’t end. It reshapes you. And for Harvey, the shift came when he realized:

His daughter wasn’t asking him to forget her. She was asking him to forgive himself for staying.

That was the moment. Not when the pain stopped. But when it stopped owning him.

That’s the shift.