You will know what I mean when you meet her.
Love,
Dad.
I couldn’t see the final line clearly.
My eyes had filled with tears.
For thirteen years, I had carried my father’s death as a question I could never answer. I had spent so much time remembering what he hadn’t been there to teach me that I had forgotten how much he had already given me.
Now, in a house filled with the work of two men who had never finished their project, I understood what he had been trying to say.
I looked at Diane.
She was crying, too.
“Did you know what it said?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why did you wait three days?”
She took a breath.
“Because the first time I held that envelope, I thought it was another message from a dead man telling me how to live.”
She wiped her cheek.
“And I was afraid that if I opened it, I would have to admit that I was finally happy again.”
