The letter continued.
“Eat food I would’ve hated. Stay too long somewhere beautiful. Leave somewhere boring early. Spend money on yourself without explaining it to anyone. The children love you, but don’t let loving them become the reason you never live without permission.”
I covered my mouth.
Arthur looked away to give me some privacy.
Then I read the final paragraph.
“I asked Arthur to keep this because Australia always felt like the place where my life became mine for the first time. Maybe it’ll do the same for you. And if Arthur is still around, make him buy the coffee. He still owes me $12.”
I laughed through my tears. “Maybe it’ll do the same for you.”
Arthur looked at me.
“I wondered whether he mentioned that. Interest seems unreasonable after all these years.”
That made me laugh harder.
I cried after that.
Not the way I’d cried at Robert’s funeral.
This was different.
It felt like grief and relief sharing the same room.
I cried after that.
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For over a decade, I’d carried a quiet guilt whenever I did something that would’ve been impossible if Robert were alive.
