Letting Go

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JOSSLYN Breckenridge surveyed her appearance in the mirror, nervous even though no one would see her. Except Dash. She knew without confirming that he’d be here, just as he’d been here on this day for the previous two years, waiting to take her to the cemetery to visit and put fresh flowers on her husband’s grave.

The flowers were on the counter beside her, just waiting for her to pick up and carry out of the house. But she hesitated, because this year . . . This year was different. She was apprehensive and yet resolved.

She had to move on with her life. She had to let go. It hurt, and yet at the same time, it brought her a measure of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was time. All she had left to do was visit Carson’s grave and make peace with her decision.

She smoothed her shirt and ran her hands down the legs of her jeans. Not what she normally wore to the cemetery on the anniversary of her husband’s burial. In the last two years, she’d worn black. It hadn’t seemed respectful to go casual, as if the visit wasn’t that important.

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