As we turned to leave, I glanced back once, not with regret, but with resolve to create new traditions, new memories with Abby at the center of them. Returning home, the house was filled with the aroma of breakfast. Abby, now awake, was in the kitchen, trying to make pancakes, a tradition we had somehow let slip away in the busyness of the holidays.
Mark joined her, and they laughed over the mess of batter and flour. I stood back, watching them, feeling a warmth slowly thaw the ice that had formed the night before. We might have lost one part of our family, but in doing so, we gained a clearer vision of who we were and what we valued.
And together, we were ready to fill the empty spaces with more love than ever before.
