At night, we stayed up talking about childhood memories.
Sometimes we laughed until our stomachs hurt.
Other times, we sat quietly watching the moonlight move across the water.
For several precious days, I felt something I hadn’t experienced since Robert’s passing.
Peace.
But on the final afternoon, Susan’s behavior changed.
We were relaxing beneath a beach umbrella while the waves rolled gently onto the sand.
She’d barely spoken for almost an hour.
Every few minutes, she’d glance at me and quickly look away.
At first, I assumed she was tired.
Then she suddenly reached toward me.
“Can I borrow your phone?”
I smiled.
“Sure. What for?”
“I want us to take one final photograph together.”
Edit Photos
I laughed.
“Final? Susan, we’re not exactly saying goodbye forever.”
Normally, she would have laughed with me.
Instead, she slowly removed her sunglasses.
Her face was unusually serious.
