I hadn’t expected anything. But the next day, he called—angry, shaken. He had found a letter tucked inside one of the boxes his mother left behind. It wasn’t addressed to him—it was addressed to me.
In it, she thanked me for caring for her with patience and kindness during her most vulnerable moments. She admitted she couldn’t change her will without causing family conflict, but wanted me to know that what I gave her mattered more than anything she could have left behind. She wrote that I had been her comfort, her steady hand, her peace in her final days.
