Page 152 of I’m Already Gone

I feel as if the ground beneath my feet is shifting.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Sam says quietly, moving toward the door.

I stand frozen, staring at the box in my hands as if it might explode.

“Ethan.”

I meet her gaze, the sadness between us palpable.

“I never got to say thank you for being there for her. For your kids. For us,” she says, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you like a brother and…” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“I’m sorry you lost her, too. I love you, Sam,” I say. Each breath begins to feel a little lighter, as if my heart is shedding the regret I have carried since Lily passed.

A small, grateful smile graces her lips as she opens the door, stepping back into the world outside. I’m left standing alone, cradling the last gift from my Sunshine.

I walk slowly to the living room, dropping onto the couch. The square box rests in my lap, sealed with a thick strip of shipping tape. I peel it off, ready to uncover the messages and love she left behind.

Under the purple tissue paper is a white envelope with directions in black Sharpie: Read Me First.

I pull the letter out from the envelope. My eyes fill with tears at the first line.

Dear Ethan,

The moment I learned I had cancer, my thoughts immediately spiraled into the most terrifying outcomes, focusing on how I would break the news to you. To our children. But I never imagined this moment would arrive where I’d be here, writing these messages for you. If you’re reading this, it means my worst fear has come to life.

I had hoped for more time, more precious moments with you and the kids. But now, all I can offer is a small piece of myself to hold onto.

Inside this box, you’ll find a jar labeled “I’m always with you.” Within it are colorful slips of paper, each representing a cherished memory of us, a memory to lean on during the rollercoaster of emotions you are bound to feel: red for moments of anger, blue for times of sadness, and yellow for the happiness we shared.

I hope these memories will help you heal and find hope to move forward.

Ethan, you may worry about going on without me, but please remember that my love surrounds you and offers strength when you need it most.

I will see you again, my love. Live and love deeply; cherish every moment with our children and guide them into becoming strong and independent. When life feels overwhelming, wrap your arms around them tightly. You may be surprised how much their love can heal you, just as your love can comfort them in return.

When you feel the sunlight on your face, know that it’s me, smiling down on you, sending you the warmth and strength to carry on, and lighting your path in times of darkness.

I love you, Ethan James Hartley, with every fiber of my being. Thank you for giving us another chance and for loving me so deeply, for embracing Ollie as if he were your own. This isn’t goodbye. Our souls will meet again.

Forever yours,

Sunshine

The box falls from my lap as I bury my face in her letter; it smells like Lily. My Sunshine.

I cry.

No matter how much they prepare you, when a loved one dies, it never gets easier. No one can convince me otherwise.

The pain doesn’t lessen or go away.

Grief is love with nowhere to go.

When they buried my Sunshine, they forgot to put me in there with her.

Ethan

Sixty-three years old