The pale moonlight illuminates her face, shining down on her blissful slumber. Unlike most nights, she is out on the back porch, near the bubbling fountain where she’s spent dozens of hours. I wonder if she thought about the finality of her visit when she was here earlier today. She looks so calm, so peaceful, that nothing could ever disrupt her tranquility. I hope that’s true. Gently brushing my fingers across her forehead, I wonder if this will be the last time I’ll ever see my daughter again. Then my resolve stiffens—better to get it over with. “We’re ready,” I tell him. “Go ahead.”