How can you say That? Sarah wept. “Dad left because—”
I firmly said, “Because a drunk driver ran a red light.” “Not because Matt needed aid. Tom would have done it for anybody he loved.”
Matt gazed at me, hopeful and uncertain. You don’t blame me?
“I miss my husband every day,” I remarked, crying. However, knowing he was the guy I loved—kind, helpful, putting family first—gives me comfort, not hatred.
The days followed were hard. She felt wrath and remorse for experiencing it. Matt and they started treatment or counseling.
Matt sometimes joined me on my monthly graveyard visits. Ben lovingly placed red flowers on Tom’s grave yesterday as he and I watched.
Ben proudly added, “Grandpa liked these best,” too young to remember Tom.
Matt grinned faintly. It’s true, buddy. How did you know?
“You told me yesterday we picked them.”
Sarah joined us, taking my arm. “All of us here feel Dad would have loved this.”
I nodded, throat tight. Grief persists. Always will be… although the edges are softer now.
Matt stayed with me on the vehicle walk.
“I think about him every day,” he whispered. From shame to gratitude. He taught me fatherhood, marriage, and friendship.”
His arm was pinched. “He’d approve of your transformation.”
Hope so.”
After receiving flowers from a stranger, our family healed. Tom saved Matt’s life and ours in his final act of love by leading us back to one other through honesty and forgiveness.
Life is not random, argue some. I believe Tom is still looking over us and educating us, despite the grief of loss.
