For the first time, they didn’t feel like evidence of unfinished plans.
They felt like possibilities.
I picked up a pen, chose a place I’d always wanted to visit, and marked it on the map.Book Venues
Beneath it, I wrote:
Number three. My turn.
I cried as I looked at those words, but this time, the tears felt different.
I would always miss Martin. No journey could replace him, and no beautiful view could erase the pain of losing the person I’d loved for almost fifty years.
But I finally understood what he’d been trying to give me.
He hadn’t left me a map so I could spend the rest of my life chasing the places we would never visit together.Edit Photos
He’d left it so I could remember our life, carry our love with me, and find the courage to keep living my own.
