My son won the lottery, kicked me out of the house, and said: “You’re worthless! Go live in a nursing home.” I wandered aimlessly to clear my mind. When I sat down on a bench, a homeless man walked up to me, smiled, and said: “You look just like my late wife…”

“What was the meal?” Blaine asked softly.

“Pot roast with carrots and potatoes, green bean casserole, and apple pie for dessert. The same dinner I made for our first anniversary when we were so broke I had to borrow money from my mother for groceries.”Plan Gardens

Blaine’s eyes filled with tears. “I remember that dinner. You were so worried the roast would be tough, but it was perfect. Everything was perfect because we were together.”

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“I made that same meal 15 times, Blaine. 15 anniversaries of eating alone and pretending you were there with me. Sometimes I’d even set two places at the table and have conversations with your empty chair.”

We sat with that image between us. 15 years of anniversary dinners eaten alone. 15 years of mourning a death that never happened. 15 years of missing each other while our son counted the money he’d stolen from both of us.