Seeing my mom laugh, dress up, and fall in love again after so many lonely years should have been enough to silence my doubts. Instead, one question grew louder every time Richard came to dinner.

My mom hadn’t hummed in 11 years.

Not since Dad passed away.

But there she was one Sunday afternoon, standing in front of her bedroom mirror and humming an old Sinatra tune while fastening the pearl earrings Dad had given her for their 30th anniversary.

I leaned against the doorway with my arms folded, trying not to get emotional.

“Mom, you look beautiful!”

“Oh, stop,” she said, waving me away with a smile. “It’s just dinner, Avery.”

“You’re even wearing the red dress!”

“I’m allowed to wear the red dress.”

“You bought that red dress recently, and it’s already been out of the closet more than my winter coat!”

Mom laughed.

It was such a wonderful sound that for a moment, I forgot why I had come upstairs.

Which, admittedly, was to snoop.

My mother had been alone for 11 years, and now she moved around the house like someone had turned the lights back on.