The final sentence made Laura smile.
He was taking his first flying lesson.
Laura folded the letter carefully and placed it in a wooden box beside a photograph of Gabriel.
She finally understood something she had resisted for years.
Pain doesn’t simply disappear.
Neither does loss.
But grief does not have to become a prison.
Later that afternoon, Laura stood beside the airfield as a training jet climbed into the bright blue sky.
For years, the sound of aircraft engines had brought back the worst moment of her life.
This time was different.
She watched the jet disappear into the distance.
For the first time since Gabriel died, Laura didn’t look into the sky and see the past.
She saw everything still waiting ahead of her.
And quietly, with a smile, she whispered,
“I’m home.”
