And then… he wasn’t.
The loss was unbearable. The house no longer felt like mine. At first, neighbors, friends, and family came by, but eventually, everyone returned to their own lives. I tried to do the same, for the sake of my children and grandchildren.
But Martin’s office remained untouched. His chair sat where he left it, his glasses still on the desk, even his coffee mug waiting. I told myself I’d deal with it later. And “later” kept moving further away.
Yesterday, Jane came over. She didn’t ask—she never does.
“Mom,” she said, setting her bag down. “I’m going to help you pack Dad’s things today.”
“I’m not ready.”
She gave me that look, the one she inherited from Martin.
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
That was enough.
