She wrote that she regretted how difficult things had become and hoped I would remember the good times.

It was not a full acknowledgment of what she had said or done.

I put it in a drawer without replying.

I was allowed to decide whether, and when, contact would be welcome.

I repainted the living room a warm shade of green.

My mother had always liked green because it made the house feel open to the garden.

I replaced the couch Kenneth slept on with two comfortable chairs and a reading lamp.

For the first time in years, the room wasn’t arranged around his late-night habits.