12/10/2025
I'm 40F, and a few weeks ago, my entire world fell apart. My 10-year-old daughter Lily died in a car accident. My husband was driving her to art school — he barely survived, and Lily… she died instantly. Two weeks later, my husband finally came home from the hospital, bruised, limping, wrapped in bandages. But the house was silent. Her room untouched, her drawings still on the table, her toys still scattered across the floor. I didn't know how to keep living. I was only pretending to function. One morning, as I sat staring into a mug of cold coffee, our dog Baxter suddenly began scratching and barking at the back door. He barked LOUDER AND LOUDER, continuing to paw at the door. I opened it… and froze. Baxter was standing on the porch, holding something bright yellow in his teeth. I leaned in closer. Oh God — IT WAS LILY’S SWEATER. The sweater was similar to the one Lily had been wearing when the accident happened. My knees nearly buckled. How did Baxter find this sweater? He placed it at my feet, barked sharply — then looked at me, grabbed it again, and started to run out, stopping every few steps to make sure I WAS FOLLOWING. It was like he wanted to show me something connected to Lily. Without even grabbing a jacket, I ran after him. After about ten minutes, Baxter finally stopped — and when I saw the abandoned shed in front of us, MY HEART BEGAN POUNDING WILDLY. ⬇️