Sometimes Ben crawls into my lap, wraps his little arms around my neck, and softly asks, “Mom, are you happy now?” I hold him close, breathe in the warm scent of his shampoo, and answer with a smile born from genuine truth.
Yes, sweetheart. I’m happy — truly, deeply happy.
That fragile sentence whispered under a funeral table didn’t tear our family apart; it saved us. A child’s innocent honesty — untouched by adult fear or denial — became the key that opened a door I never thought I’d walk through. Sometimes the quietest voice carries the most strength. And sometimes that strength doesn’t destroy — it reveals, it mends, and it leads you gently toward the life you were meant to claim.
