Three months later, Margaret moved into a small apartment just ten minutes from our house.
Every Wednesday after school, Emily visited her.
They baked cookies together, looked through old photographs, and Margaret told stories about Mike’s childhood.
One Sunday, Emily asked all of us to sit together on the couch.
Robert sat beside me, Margaret sat on his other side, and Emily settled between them.
I took a photograph.
Then my daughter said something I will never forget.
“Mom, I used to think that when my real daddy died, our family got smaller. But now I understand that a family can grow again.”
That night, I stared at the photograph for a long time.
Sometimes, when someone new enters our lives, we’re afraid to trust that person with what matters most: our children.
I had been afraid, too.
But Robert hadn’t been trying to replace Mike.
He had helped bring Mike’s memory back into our home.
