The photographs showed a porch, blue chairs, and a path leading down to the beach.
Claire found me staring at the screen.
“Mom, you don’t have to keep reminders of him.”
“Do you want me to delete it?”
“No.”
“Mom, you don’t have to keep reminders of him.”
“It’s not his reminder,” I said. “I wanted to see the ocean long before I married your father.”
She pulled up a chair.
“Then go.”
She pointed at the photograph.
“I’m not sure I remember how to travel alone.”
“You figured out chemotherapy appointments and a divorce. I think you can manage a hotel.”
I laughed.
She pointed at the photograph.
“Promise me you won’t give him this too.”
I couldn’t promise. Not then. But I left the email where it was.
Claire shared the news with everyone who’d helped during treatment, including Wade.
Nearly a year after Randall left, my doctor studied my latest scans and smiled.
