I did not answer.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because I finally understood that peace sometimes begins with refusing to keep explaining your pain to the person who caused it.
Part Seven: Ethan’s Answer
The following Sunday, I returned to the cemetery with Watcher walking beside me.
He no longer stayed several feet away.
He moved close to my side, his shoulder brushing my leg as if we had been walking together for years.
Ethan’s grave looked different in the morning light.
The yellow daisies I had planted had begun to bloom.
I knelt and placed a fresh bouquet beside the stone.
“I have something to read to you,” I whispered.
I unfolded one of Ethan’s letters.
The paper shook slightly in my hands.
“Dear Mama,” I read. “Please don’t be afraid of being sad. Sad means you love someone. When you miss me, look for sunshine. I’ll be there.”
