Part 7: Learning to Miss Him Without Losing Ourselves
Six months passed.
Nothing magically returned to normal.
Violet and I did not suddenly become the women we had been before Mark died.
But something between us began to heal.
Slowly.
Imperfectly.
Honestly.
She started asking before coming over.
She asked before picking Cecelia up.
She stopped searching for excuses when grief overwhelmed her.
When she missed Mark, she simply said, “I miss him.”
And I learned that sometimes the healthiest thing I could say in return was, “I do too.”
One afternoon, Violet sat on the living room rug while Cecelia wrestled with a wooden block.
My daughter gripped it with such determination that her little knuckles turned pale.
Violet laughed.
“Look at that grip.”
I smiled.
“Just like Mark.”
Violet looked at me.
Then she looked down at Cecelia.
For one brief second, I recognized the old expression in her eyes.
