I never expected anything from her affairs, so I had no reason to anticipate surprises. The day after the service, I was still sorting through my thoughts when the phone rang. It was her son, his voice tense and shaken, carrying a mix of frustration and confusion that spilled out almost immediately.
While sorting through a box of his mother’s old keepsakes, he had come across a letter. It wasn’t addressed to him. It was addressed to me.
Inside, she had written with a gentleness that stopped me in my tracks. She thanked me for the patience I had shown during her most fragile days.
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