Then he reached into the pocket.
“Mom, Dad wanted you to have something.”Choose Baby Gear
He pulled out a small object wrapped in white tissue.
“He told me you were supposed to get it after he died.”
Inside was a single pink earring.
Cheap metal.
One fake stone missing.
The hook slightly bent.
I knew it.Book Grief Counseling
My hand closed around the back of the chair.
“No.”
“What?”
“Where did he get that?”
Daniel crouched in front of me.
“He kept it.”
Tears filled my eyes.Order Custom Logos
That earring had disappeared more than thirty years ago.
Before Daniel.
Before mortgages.
Before cancer medication covered our kitchen counter.
I was twenty-three.
Richard and I were dating. I had worn that pink dress to a cheap little restaurant where the owner offered free dessert to anyone brave enough to dance when an old song came on.Design Custom Rings
Richard refused.
Naturally, I stood up.Clothing
I danced between the tables badly enough to make strangers clap while Richard covered his face.
Later, outside, he tugged at my dress.
“That thing is dangerous.”
“The dress?”
“The woman in it.”
I laughed.
“Jealous because I wear pink better than you.”Order Custom Logos
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Somewhere between the restaurant and home, I lost one earring.Design Custom Rings
I hadn’t thought about it in years.
Daniel watched my face.
“Dad told me about that night.”
I looked down at the pink fabric stretched over my son’s knees.
“This is mine.”
He nodded.
“Dad found it in a box in the attic.”
“Why?”
Daniel swallowed.
“That’s what we fought about.”
He told me that four months earlier, Richard had asked him to bring down the box.
Then Richard pulled out the dress.Clothing
“He asked me when the last time was that you did something just because you wanted to.”
My voice failed me.
Daniel continued.
“I told him I didn’t know.”
“He started talking about vacations. He said every vacation we’d ever taken was somewhere he wanted to go, somewhere I wanted to go, or somewhere that worked for school.”
“Families compromise,” I said.
“I know.”
“He was sick, Danny. He was emotional.”
“I agree. But then he said your whole life had become lists.”
I stared at him.
“Grocery lists. Medication lists. Things I needed in college. Things Dad needed for treatment. Birthdays. Appointments.”Choose Baby Gear
