Owen was asleep downstairs.
I sat beside Margaret.
At 11:43, her breathing changed.
I called Ethan.
He came into the room and stood on the other side of the bed.
Margaret opened her eyes.
Looked at him.
Then me.
She reached toward the pillow.
“For Nora.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
“The blue one.”
Her voice was barely sound.
“For you.”
Ethan looked confused.
“So keep it,” he whispered.
Margaret’s eyes stayed on mine.
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
She relaxed.
A few minutes later, she was gone.
No dramatic last speech.
No hidden confession.
Just one breath.
Then no next breath.
I held her hand until it became cold.
By morning, the house was full.
Daniel arrived first.
Marcus next.
Leah came around nine wearing black and carrying a casserole nobody ate.
They cried.
Real tears.
Whatever failures existed between them and Margaret, she was still their mother.
I did not want to turn grief into judgment.
