The moment his flight was in the air, we moved.

We did not empty the house.

We did not touch his belongings or take anything that was his or do a single thing that anyone could later twist into a story about theft or spite.

We were careful, deliberately and provably careful.

We packed only what was hers and what she needed: her everyday clothing, her medications, her important personal documents, and the things that no settlement could ever replace, the family photo albums, the pictures of my father, the small irreplaceable pieces of a life.

And then we drove away, and my mother did not look back at the house.