“I know. And I’m sorry.”
Just then, the flight attendant returned.
She was holding a small blue envelope.
“I found it. It had fallen beneath the seat and slid into the row behind you.”
Linda took the envelope with both hands.
She pulled out an old photograph and a small piece of paper.
In the photograph, Emily was smiling while hugging her mother.
And on the paper, written in her daughter’s handwriting, were these words:
“Mom, if one day I’m
no longer by your side, promise me you’ll keep living, laughing, and making new friends. I’ll always be with you.”
Linda cried as though fifteen years of buried grief were finally pouring out of her heart.
I placed my hand on her shoulder.
“Your daughter was a very wise young woman.”
She smiled through her tears.
“Yes. She was a much better person than I am.”