“Does Mommy still see me?”
“Would she like my drawing?”
“Will she come back if I wait long enough?”
Mark never rushed those moments. He would kneel beside her, hold her small hands, and answer gently—even when his own heart felt like it was cracking open.
“No, sweetheart… she won’t come back. But she loves you. Always.”
And every time he said it, he hoped it was enough.
Life Got Smaller, But Love Didn’t
Money became tight after the hospital bills.
Mark worked longer hours, took extra shifts when he could, and learned to stretch every dollar until it nearly snapped.
Their house changed too.
Fewer lights on.
Fewer takeout nights.
More quiet evenings at the kitchen table.
But there was still laughter.
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