And, of course, the ice cream.
By the time we walked back toward our house, I realized I had spent years believing that forgetting would make grief easier.
But maybe forgetting hadn’t made it easier.
Maybe it had simply taken away the good memories along with the painful ones.
That evening, Ellie and I sat together on the front steps.
We each had a strawberry shortcake bar.
She took a bite and smiled.
“So this really was your favorite?”
I smiled.
“It was.”
She looked at me.
“Did Uncle Adam buy you one?”
“He did.”
She grinned.
“Then I think we should eat them for him.”
I laughed.
“Yeah. I think we should.”
We sat there until the evening light began to fade.
The ice cream truck eventually disappeared around the corner, its familiar melody growing quieter and quieter.
But Ben had given me something far more valuable than a free dessert.
