He is gone… but what broke me was not only that

Garbage bags were scattered across the grass. Toys, clothes, books—Ava’s pink blanket was tangled in the bushes.She cried. Noah stood there, stunned. The house key no longer fit.

I banged on the door. Eleanor opened it, satisfied.

“You are not welcome here. This house belongs to me. Take your brats and leave.”

“This is our home,” I said with a trembling voice.

“It was my son’s. Unless you have a lawyer in your diaper bag, good luck.”

She slammed the door.

That night, I turned the back seat of our car into a “camping trip.” Ava cried herself to sleep. Noah whispered:

“Dad wouldn’t allow that.”

“And I won’t,” I said, holding him tight.

But Jason had already protected us.

The next morning, I called Jason’s lawyer.

“She did what?” David almost shouted. “Come in. Now.”

As it turned out, Jason had updated his will six months before the accident. He had left everything to me and the children—our house, his savings, everything.

But one sentence was unforgettable:Continue reading…