I imagined my 60th birthday would feel comforting — a full dinner table, laughter, and the familiar voices of my children.

Instead, the house was painfully quiet. The food I prepared slowly went cold, and every passing minute made the empty chairs feel heavier. When someone finally knocked on the door, it didn’t sound like family at all.

I waited four hours for my six children to arrive.
Four long hours sitting alone at a table set for seven, surrounded by plates of food and a heart full of hope.