“So this was what it was like: we’d been here before; we’d taken her to rehab, we’d visited her in rehab; we’d silently prayed on our side of the great divide that God would have mercy on our child and intervene—that He, or anyone, I didn’t care—would help her see the light and want to get well and return to her family. This rehab was different; it was farther away. Maybe it would be easier for her to get a better perspective on her life. Maybe, maybe, maybe—she had her own higher power, and I had mine. Oh, God, I pleaded under my breath, it had to work this time. “Let her go, Maggie,” I heard Him answer. I lingered, half hoping she’d backtrack and blow us another kiss. She didn’t. We turned around and walked to the exit.