There were sentences about grief and the strange guilt people feel when they begin to enjoy life again.

Near the end she had written something I read aloud twice.

“Never let gratitude become a debt somebody can collect from you forever.

A person may do something kind for you on Monday and still be wrong on Tuesday.

You are allowed to thank them for one and object to the other.”

I sat at the kitchen table, holding the letter while rain tapped against the window.

How many times had I excused Lucas because he had supported me through a difficult project at work or held me when my father died?