I wasn’t sure if I was losing my grip on reality or if something more unsettling was at play. After visiting my wife’s grave, I came home to find the very same flowers I had left there now sitting in a vase on the kitchen table. Five years had passed since I buried Winter and along with her, my guilt but the past wasn’t finished with me.
Grief never truly fades. Our daughter Eliza was only 13 when Winter passed; she’s 18 now, carrying the weight of that loss like a constant shadow
