My daughter wrote about her doctor’s appointments, the days she felt weaker, and how she could see it in my face, even when I tried to hide it.
“She knew…” I whispered.
Judy nodded quietly.
Her handwriting filled every page.
Lily had written about me.
How I kept saying everything would be okay, and how I avoided the truth because I couldn’t handle it.
“Lily didn’t want me to fall apart…” I said, my voice breaking.
That’s when I finally lost it again.
I turned and buried my face in Judy’s shoulder, crying harder than I had in weeks.
And for the first time since everything happened…
I didn’t try to hold it in.
Lily had written about me.
***
I don’t know how long Judy held me.
But she didn’t rush me. She just stood there, steady, letting me cry in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to since everything happened. Eventually, I pulled back and wiped my face.
That’s when something clicked. I frowned at her.
“Ju… how did you know which storage facility to come to?” I asked. “I didn’t give you the address.”
She hesitated, then sighed softly.
“It took you a while,” she said, smiling. “I worked with Lily for months to organize all of this. She insisted.”
I stared at her.
“You knew?”
I frowned at her.
My sister nodded. “Li came to me about six months ago. Said she needed help with something important. At first, I thought it was just school stuff, but then she showed me her plan. She used her birthday money and what she made babysitting Mrs. Greene’s kid downstairs. I helped cover the cost of the unit.”
I looked around again, overwhelmed.
“She made me promise not to tell you,” Judy said. “She said you weren’t ready yet.”
I let out a shaky breath. “She was right.”
Judy nodded toward the last box.
“There’s one more thing.”
“She said you weren’t ready yet.”
I walked over slowly.
The final box sat slightly apart from the others.
Inside was a single envelope: “LAST ONE.”
A small video drive slipped into my palm when I opened it.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s the most important one,” Judy said. “I brought my laptop.”
Of course, she had.
***
Judy opened her laptop while I held the drive tightly as we sat in her car.
“You ready?” she asked.
