I smiled faintly.
“Oh, she was impossible. She believed every room became better when she walked in.”
Judith laughed through her tears.
“She was probably right.”
“She usually was.”
That afternoon, as I walked back into the main house, I realized something unexpected.
For three years, grief had been the only thing living inside me.
Now… it wasn’t alone anymore.
Not peace. Not healing.
Just… presence.
And sometimes, that’s the first kind of mercy we’re given.
