Every doctor’s appointment would remind us that our time together was coming to an end.
Every happy moment would have been accompanied by the fear that it might be our last.
Susan said he told her:
« Let them spend these months without this fear. »
I got angry.
I told her that those months had also belonged to me.
I said I had the right to know what happened to my husband.
And none of them had the right to decide for me what I could handle and what I couldn’t.
Susan just nodded.didn’t say that Michael had been right.
She didn’t say that she had done the right thing either.
She simply said:
« I know. »
That only made everything more difficult.
Then I looked at the box again.
Part of me wanted to keep them closed.
Another part needed to know what Michael had done in the last months of his life.
I opened it.
Inside were two smaller boxes, several sealed envelopes, and a larger envelope with my name on it.
In the first box was Michael’s old watch, which he had worn almost every day since his student days.
There was a note underneath.
« For my son. »
The second box contained a necklace that had belonged to his grandmother.
There was also a note underneath.
« For my daughter. »
Then I took out the envelopes.
There were twelve.
Each one had something different written on it in Michael’s handwriting.
« For your
« When you turn sixteen. »
« For your school graduation. »
« For the day you fall in love. »
I continued reading until I came to an envelope that I couldn’t open.
« For the day you need your father and I’m not there. »
That’s when I broke down.
For years I had mourned all the things Michael would never experience.
But I had never really thought about the fact that he, too, had mourned those moments.
He had already imagined them before the twins were even born.
Their birthdays.
Their first days of school.
Heartbreak.
School qualifications.
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