At first, I thought I misplaced it.

I searched every room.

The closet.

The basement.

The guest room.

Nothing.

Then I saw the message.

From Emily.

“Mom, I took the suitcase.”

My heart dropped.

I called immediately.

She answered after four rings.

“Emily.”

“Mom, before you get upset—”

“Where is it?”

Silence.

“I put it in storage.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“You took my husband’s things?”

“I was trying to help.”

“No.”

My voice shook.

“You decided you knew better.”

“Mom, you’re surrounding yourself with grief.”

I closed my eyes.

Because there it was.

The word everyone used.

Grief.

Like it was something embarrassing.

Something dirty.

Something that should have expired.

“You don’t understand.”

“I’m trying to.”

“No.”

I whispered.

“You’re trying to make me stop missing him because watching me miss him makes you uncomfortable.”

Emily became quiet.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she said:

“I just want my mom back.”

That sentence broke something inside me.

Because I wanted that too.

But nobody told me that losing a spouse meant losing the person you used to be.

I wasn’t refusing to move forward.

I was learning how to walk with half a heart.

Continue read next>>> PART3 : THE SUITCASE