I always thought that was the kindest thing my mother ever did.
As adults, our lives branched out, but we never drifted. I married Russell Dunmore when I was twenty-eight. He was a high school science teacher with terrible jokes and a laugh that filled a whole room. Paige married Kurt, and it ended in divorce eight years later. I helped her move, sat with her on her new kitchen floor surrounded by boxes, and promised her she’d never be alone.
Russell adored her. She came for Thanksgiving and Christmas and every birthday. She had her own key to our house. She knew when Russ left for school, where the spare blankets were, which mug was mine.
Eight months ago, Russell had a heart attack in the faculty parking lot at 7:40 on a Tuesday morning. He was forty-seven. By the time I got to the hospital, he was gone.
After that, the world went gray.
