I smiled back and said, “Heading somewhere new.” He chuckled softly. “Good answer.” His name was David Monroe. And as the plane took off, we started talking about where we were from, the places we’d seen, and the people we’d loved. By the time the plane touched down, it felt like I was talking to someone I had known all my life. There was something comforting about him—steady, gentle, and honest. He told me he was a retired professor traveling alone after losing his wife a few years ago. I told him about Paul, about my son, and about the strange emptiness that had led me there. He listened, not with pity, but with understanding.
That night, as we arrived at our hotel in Munich and snow began to fall, I realized something powerful. My daughter-in-law had told me to stay home because she thought I had nowhere else to go. But standing there under that winter sky, I finally understood: I had the whole world waiting for me, and I had just begun to find it.
