Every family has its rituals, and ours revolved around Sunday dinners.
After my father died three years ago, my mom made it a point to gather us at her house every single week, no matter what. Those meals weren’t just about eating together — they were her way of keeping Dad close, of making sure his presence never faded.
So when she sent a brief text one Sunday afternoon that simply said, “Please don’t come today,” my heart sank. No explanation. No smiley face. Just five unsettling words. My brother and I exchanged a look and knew instantly something was wrong. We ignored the message, got into the car, and drove straight to her house, anxiety tightening in our chests.
