“He has spent 11 years avoiding that room. I thought if I emptied it, he would not have to lose Emily again while losing me.”
Anna’s expression softened, but she did not simply agree.
“Did you ask him what he wanted?”
“Then how do you know an empty room will hurt less?”
Barbara’s mouth opened, then closed.
“Yes,” Anna said. “But grief does not make us mind readers.”
Barbara looked toward the ceiling.
“You may be,” Anna said. “But you may also be deciding for him because asking is harder.”
For the first time, I understood that her plan was not purely noble or purely wrong.
It was fear dressed as control.
