By morning, I knew what I had to do. I sat with Lynn at the kitchen table. My voice shook as I said “I was wrong. let my pain speak instead of my heart. This house is your home too. I want you and the kids here—not out of pity, but because you are family. Because my son would want it this way.” Tears filled her eyes, and she reached across the table to take my hand.
The children ran in, wrapping their arms around me, and for the first time in months, I felt warmth in the house again. I realized then: grief can blind us, but love restores us. My son may no longer walk through these doors, but his presence lives on through his wife and children. And by keeping them close, I am keeping him close too.
