It had already been four months since my beloved Jim passed away, and only now did I find the strength to gather his things and move them to the attic. The house had been so quiet without him, and every corner seemed to whisper memories of our life together.
His favorite chair by the window still faced the garden he loved so much. Sometimes, I caught myself glancing at it, expecting to see him there, quietly reading the paper or watching the birds.
But it was all an illusion, one that brought me comfort and pain. It felt like he had just stepped out to the store for his favorite milk or was tending to the roses he planted last spring.
But I knew that wasn’t true. Jim was gone, and no amount of pretending could bring him back. Casey had been after me for weeks to pack away his things.
“Mom, it’s time,” she’d say. “You’re just making it harder on yourself.”
She didn’t grieve like I did. She threw herself into work, always busy, always moving. It was her way of coping, I suppose. She had her daughter, Ashley, to think about.
Maybe Casey didn’t have the luxury of slowing down, but I needed time. I had lost the love of my life, my partner of 32 years, and I wasn’t sure who I was without him anymore.
Finally, I knew it was time to let go of some things that kept me clinging to the past. I packed Jim’s clothes, tools, and little knick-knacks into boxes and slowly carried them to the attic.
It was exhausting, both physically and emotionally. When I set down the last box, something in the corner caught my eye. There, tucked behind some old furniture, was a sign. I squeezed past the clutter to get a better look, and my heart ached as I saw it.
“Mia’s Mornings,” it read in Jim’s careful handwriting. Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the day he made it for me. Years ago, we had talked about opening a café. We even found a spot for it, but life had other plans. I got pregnant and put the dream on hold.
Now, standing there with that sign in my hands, all those memories came rushing back. Jim had always believed in me, even when I couldn’t follow through on my dreams.
That evening, Casey and my granddaughter Ashley came to visit. I spent time playing with Ashley, trying to focus on her laughter. Casey walked around the house, her eyes scanning the space.
“I’m glad you finally put away Dad’s things,” she said, standing in the doorway. “Now there’s more room. It feels better in here.”
I looked up at her, a little tired. “It wasn’t easy,” I said quietly.
“Mom, it’s been four months,” Casey said. “You need to move on.”
I nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just… I found something today. The sign Dad made for my café. I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time to open it.”
Casey blinked, clearly surprised. “And how would you do that?” she asked. “Where’s the money going to come from?”
“I was thinking about using the money your dad left behind,” I said, feeling a little hopeful.
Casey frowned. “We talked about this. That money’s for Ashley’s education. I’ve already signed her up for private school.”
I lowered my head. “I know, I know. It was just an idea,” I said, unsure of why I was apologizing.
“Mom, you’re too old to start a business now,” Casey added, her voice firm.
I smiled at her. “Sweetheart, 50 isn’t that old.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but running a café takes a lot of energy. You have to think about that.”
After they left, I sat alone, staring at the sign. Tears filled my eyes. Once again, I had to set aside my dream.
A few days had passed since I found the sign, and I had tried to push it out of my mind. Life had a way of distracting me. But one afternoon, on my way back from the market, something stopped me in my tracks.
There it was, the same building Jim and I had once dreamed about for our café, and now, a “For Rent” sign hung in the window. My heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It felt like a sign from Jim, a push to finally go after my dream.
I quickly scribbled down the realtor’s number, my hands shaking with excitement. I knew I had to talk to Casey. I hurried to her office, my mind racing. When I arrived, Casey looked up, surprised to see me.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” Casey asked, clearly surprised to see me in her office.
“I need to talk to you. It’s important,” I said. My voice was steady, but my heart was racing.
We walked out of the office into the parking lot. Casey turned to me, concern written all over her face. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you healthy?” Her voice had a worried edge. I knew Jim’s passing still weighed heavily on her, and she was always afraid something might happen to me, too.
“Yes, darling, I’m fine. Healthier than ever, actually,” I reassured her, trying to ease her mind.
“Then what is it?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
I took a deep breath. “The building we were going to rent for the café… it’s for rent again,” I said, watching her reaction. “I saw the sign today. I know this is a sign from Jim. I can’t ignore it. I’ve decided to open ‘Mia’s Mornings.’ No more waiting.”
Casey shook her head, looking frustrated. “Mom, what sign? It’s just a coincidence. You can’t base your decisions on that.”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” I replied, feeling the determination rising in me. “But I’ve made up my mind. This is something I need to do for myself.”
“And what about Ashley’s education?” Casey asked, crossing her arms. “We agreed the money Dad left would be for her school. You can’t just spend it on a café.”
I sighed, feeling the weight of her words. “I know we agreed on that, but 29 years ago, I gave up my dream when I found out I was pregnant with you. I don’t want to give it up again. Not this time.”
Casey’s face tightened. “So now it’s my fault you didn’t open your café?” Her voice grew sharper.
“No, sweetheart, I don’t blame you,” I said gently. “But I’ve spent so many years putting others first. I just want your support now.”
“And who’s supporting me?” Casey shot back, her voice rising. “I’m raising Ashley by myself! I need help, too!”
I tried to keep my voice calm. “We’ve always supported you, Casey. I will keep helping, but I need you to support me, too. Ashley’s father should be helping you more.”
“He hasn’t given us anything,” she snapped.
“Because you haven’t asked him to,” I said.
“I’m not asking him for anything!” she shouted.
“Then take him to court,” I suggested.
“As if that would help!” Casey shot back.
“But you haven’t even tried,” I countered, my frustration creeping in.
“I thought my mom would support me!” she yelled, stepping toward the door.
“And I thought my daughter would support me,” I said softly.
Casey paused for a moment but didn’t respond. She opened the door and went back inside without another word.
I stood there, sighing heavily, knowing I couldn’t change her mind.
The following weeks were chaotic. I rented the building, and everything moved so fast after that. Renovations started, and I had to order equipment, hire workers, and plan the menu.
Every day felt like a whirlwind, and nothing ever seemed to go smoothly. There were delays, mistakes, and problems I never expected. At times, I wondered if Casey had been right. Maybe I was too old for this. Maybe, I couldn’t handle it. I was ready to give up more than once.
Then, one afternoon, when I was standing in the middle of the dusty, unfinished café, I looked up and saw Casey at the door. She was watching me quietly. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Hi,” she said, standing in the doorway.
“Hi,” I replied, wiping my hands on my apron.
Casey took a deep breath. “I came to apologize, Mom.”
I looked at her, surprised. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. I can’t handle all of this. It’s too much.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I was wrong. There are so many things I need to apologize for. Mostly, for not being there when you needed me. You and Dad always supported me, no matter what. But after Dad passed, instead of helping you, I pushed you away.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
I reached out and pulled her into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart,” I said, holding her close. “It’s okay. Really.”
She cried softly against my shoulder, and I stroked her back like I used to when she was little.
“And you were right about Tom,” she said after a moment, pulling back slightly. “I finally talked to him. I told him I’d take him to court if he didn’t start helping. He agreed to pay for Ashley’s school. He’s already made the first payment.”
I smiled. “I’m glad, Casey. Now you won’t have to do it all by yourself.”
She wiped her eyes. “I was never really alone, Mom. I had you. And now I’m here for you, too. You’ll make it through this, I know you will. You just need a little support.”
We hugged again, and this time, I felt lighter.
A month after that heartfelt conversation, Casey and I stood outside the café, hanging the sign Jim had made all those years ago. The letters “Mia’s Mornings” sparkled in the sunlight, and I felt a mixture of pride and sadness. Jim would have been so proud.
A few days later, “Mia’s Mornings” opened the doors to our first guests. I stood behind the counter, my heart full, ready to start this new chapter.
