Amelia looked at me with wet eyes.
“Look closer.”
I unfolded another paper.
This one wasn’t a drawing.
It was a letter.
The handwriting was clearly Leo’s — messy but determined.
Dear Mom,
Dad says you’re in heaven.
I hope you can see us.
Dad takes good care of me. He always tries really hard, even when he’s tired.
My vision blurred slightly.
I kept reading.
Sometimes I think he feels lonely, so I try to make him laugh.
I wish you could see him. You would be proud of him.
My hands trembled.
I looked up at Amelia.
“What is this?”
Her voice broke.
“Oliver… there are dozens of these.”
She gestured toward the box.
“He’s been writing letters to Nora for years.”
I slowly looked through the box.
There were drawings from when Leo was very small.
Crayon pictures of a woman with curly hair.
Later drawings became more detailed.
Then came letters.
Dozens of them.
Some short.
Some long.
One said:
Mom, Dad worked late again today, but he still made pancakes for dinner.
Another read:
Dad helped me with my science project even though he didn’t understand it either.
Then one from a few months ago.
Mom, Dad got married today.
Her name is Amelia. She’s really kind.
I think you would like her.
I felt something warm roll down my cheek.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
Amelia’s voice was soft now.
“I thought it was something bad,” she admitted. “But then I started reading them…”
She wiped her eyes.
“Oliver… do you realize what this means?”
I looked at the letters again.
Leo had been writing to his mother for twelve years.
