Before Everything Changed
For six years, my daughter-in-law, Lynn, and her two children lived with me.
While my son was alive, I never once saw it as a burden. Quite the opposite. The hallway filled with children’s laughter delighted me. I loved hearing my son’s footsteps at the end of the day and his voice echoing from the kitchen as he joked with his wife or played with the kids.
Back then, my house felt alive.
Toys scattered across the living room weren’t “mess,” they were proof of life. Extra chairs pulled up to the table didn’t crowd the room; they filled it with warmth and conversation.
Then came the day I never thought I’d face—the day my son didn’t come home again.
The Quiet After the Storm
After he died, everything changed.
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