A Letter After the Funeral The morning after the funeral felt as quiet as I expected. Grief has a way of softening everything—voices, footsteps, even time itself. I assumed the days ahead would simply return to routine. So when her son called, his voice sharp with anger and confusion, I wasn’t prepared. He told me that while going through one of his mother’s old boxes, he had found a letter addressed not to him—but to me. His questions came quickly, tangled with frustration. He wanted to know why she would write to someone outside the family, and what it meant....
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