“Sweetheart, I’ve spent two years grieving Walter. Some days I barely know how to get through an ordinary afternoon. You don’t have to pretend everything is perfect around me.”
Renee stared at me.
“I didn’t know you were still struggling so much.”
“I don’t talk about it very often.”
She stepped forward.
Then, for the first time in twelve years, my daughter-in-law embraced me as though I were her own mother.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I hugged her back.
That Christmas dinner was unlike any we’d shared before.
We had ham and turkey, Pat’s stuffing, Renee’s casserole, and my pecan pie.
Noah put mustard on nearly everything.
Lily told stories about school.
Adam laughed more than he had in months.
And for the first time since Walter died, I felt that our family was finding its way back to one another.
After dinner, Lily brought out Walter’s old Santa hat.
