“Can we come again next year?” she asked.
I squeezed her hand. “Yes,” I said. “We will.”
Outside, the night air was cool and clear. Stars stretched across the sky, brighter than I remembered.
For the first time since Samuel was gone, the ache in my chest felt different.
Not smaller, exactly, but steadier.
Because his promise hadn’t disappeared with him.
It had found its way back to us, carried in the footsteps of those who loved him, alive in the laughter of our daughter, and glowing quietly in the space between grief and hope.
And for the first time in a long while, it truly felt like we weren’t alone.
