These shoes belonged to my son, Jacob. He was only four when he got sick. Cancer stole him from me before he even got the chance to live his childhood. My husband left us when the medical bills piled up. Said he couldn't handle the 'burden.' Jacob never really wore these shoes. They were too new when he passed away. I don't know why I'm keeping them. I don't know why I'm keeping anything. My home is full of memories that choke me. I have nothing left to live for. If you're reading this, please just... remember that he was here. That I was his mom. And that I loved him more than life itself.
—Anna."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up. My throat tightened. I covered my mouth, trying to breathe.
"Mommy?" Stan's voice was soft. He tugged at my arm. "Why are you crying?"
I wiped my cheeks and forced a smile. "It's nothing, baby. Just... dust in my eyes."
But inside, I was unraveling. I didn't know who Anna was or how long ago she had written that note. All I knew was that somewhere, a mother like me had poured her grief into these shoes and now her story had landed in my lap.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about her, about Jacob, and about the grief tucked inside that little note. It felt like more than a coincidence, more like fate was nudging me awake.
By the time the sun came up, I knew what I had to do.
