I knew you’d come…”
My hands trembled as I pulled out the chair and sat down. The apartment felt too still, too carefully arranged, as if someone had tried to soften the blow I wasn’t ready to face. I kept reading.
“I didn’t want you to see a mess. You always worried about me, even when I said I was fine. I guess I learned that from you—pretending things are okay so the other person doesn’t hurt.”
Tears blurred the ink, but I forced myself to go on.
“If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye the right way. I’m sorry for that. I had plans, you know. I was going to call you this weekend. I was going to tell you I finally felt like things were coming together.”
A quiet sob escaped me. The room seemed to close in.
“Please don’t remember me for how things ended. Remember the small things—the jokes, the late-night talks, the times we laughed for no reason. That’s who I really was.”
I pressed the paper to my chest.
“I love you, Mom. More than I ever said out loud. And I knew you’d come… because you always do.”
For the first time since the call, I let myself cry—not just for losing him, but for the love he left behind.
