Inside the envelope, I found a simple, unlined piece of stationery paper, folded neatly into thirds. My mother-in-law’s handwriting, steady and elegant despite her illness, filled the page with words that seemed to breathe life into the room.
“Dear Elena,” it began. “If you are reading this, I am no longer there to say these things in person. I have always admired your strength and kindness, and I am grateful for every moment you spent with me. I know my son and daughter may not see the depth of your sacrifice, but I do.”
The words blurred for a moment as tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away and continued.
