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Riley offered to drop me off and walk with me inside, but some journeys in life, you have to take alone. Going back home after the ordeal I went through is hard, but I feel I must do it for myself.

I park in the driveway behind Judah’s car that still sits there like he’s here, inside waiting for me when I know he’s not.

“You can do this, Autumn. No, we can do this,” I say, placing my right hand on my stomach. “You ready, Judah?”

I feel him move. I smile and say, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He’s ready.

I’m ready.

I get out of my car and waddle to the front porch steps. If my mother knew I was doing this alone, she’d whip my butt, so it’s a good thing she doesn’t know. Perhaps Judah’s parents saw me pull in the driveway. I’m not sure, but I’m not concerned about that at the moment. I’m focused.

I open the door, immediately feeling him – feels like he’s here.

He is here. This is our home. This place was my husband’s sanctuary.

Taking slow steps inside, I take off my shoes and stand here, looking around.

I pull in the scent that reminds me of us – of happier times.

I envision him standing behind the counter in the kitchen the many nights he stood right there and drank water while watching me.

I think about the many times we sat on this sofa and enjoyed each other without the TV for entertainment. It was just us.

With weak, wobbly legs, I walk further inside and touch the sofa, feeling warmth spread all over me.

I take quiet steps down the hallway to the nursery.

Stuff I ordered to fix it up is still in boxes on the floor.

Judah had started putting the crib together a few weeks before he passed.

I never thought he’d finish it. He was taking so long.

Now, I know why. He was sick. He hid it from me.

He didn’t want me to worry. The cancer had returned, but it was ultimately a seizure that took his life.

I step into our bedroom. The sight of his slippers next to the bed brings me sadness and comfort. I walk there, sit down, and slide my feet into them. I grin and say, “Daddy had some big feet, Junior. You’ll probably have his big feet, too.”

I take a breath, fight back tears, and look at his nightstand. His phone is sitting here. I pick it up to turn it on, but the battery is dead. I put it on the charger, anxious to see the selfies of us once it charges.

Pulling open the top drawer of his nightstand, I see his things – cologne, miscellaneous papers and a notebook.

I take it out and open it, hoping to see his handwriting, but as I flip through, all I see are blank pages.

I sigh deeply, place it back, and rub my stomach.

I close the drawer and pick up his watch.

I hold it in front of my nose. Oh, it smells like him.

I take greedy breaths of it and close my eyes.

“I miss you so much, Judah.”

I set it back on the nightstand and then pull open the bottom drawer.

There, I see an orange envelope – those letter-sized ones people use to mail important documents.

I take it out and open the metal clasps that have it fastened together.

When I unfasten it, I see papers – ones from the notebook.

My eyes fill with tears when I see his handwriting.

Letter to my son, to be given to him on his eighth birthday.

“Oh my God,” I say, covering my mouth. He wrote Junior a letter. Even in death, he’s selfless.

Judah, my son – my only child. Let me first start off by saying that I love you and that I’m sorry I can’t tell you that in person, but life is funny that way.

It’s good to some, bad to others. That’s why we must live it to the fullest because we never know what will come from one day to the next.

I didn’t fully realize that until I met your mother.

I’ll have to go back in time to explain.

When I was in college, I found out I had cancer.

I went through the treatments. At the time, the doctors didn’t think I would survive it, but it went into remission, and I lived a somewhat normal life.

I graduated college. I surrounded myself with friends.

I worked at my parents’ grocery store. I did this for years.

I was living, coasting along, waiting for the next bad thing to happen instead of creating a life for myself.

My father chastised me constantly about living my life this way, but I persisted.

I was angry at the world, at life, at everything—though I hid it behind a pleasant demeanor.

I was charitable. Polite. I was a true gentleman, yet, internally, my world was crumbling.

My fiancée left me. That took a toll on me.

I didn’t strive for anything. I was just okay with doing just enough.

And then I met your mother.

She was coming out of an ice cream shop when she dropped hers.

Remember how polite I said I was? Yeah, I gave her mine.

She tried to refuse it, but I wouldn’t let her.

Then after she accepted it, I went on to my car, but instead of leaving, I sat there looking at her.

I started the car, turned up the AC and just sat there.

It was something about her that struck me instantly.

She was beautiful – still is, but that wasn’t it.

It was something intangible, yet, something about her touched me.

It was invisible. Otherworldly. It was something I had never experienced.

And it scared me.

I knew I had to leave right away.

I shifted the car into gear and that’s when I saw her standing next to my car, tapping her knuckles on my window. It confirmed everything I felt.

Everything.

That night, she met me at a bonfire in the woods along with a bunch of my other friends.

I introduced her to my friends – who are now your family, by the way, and after that introduction, I walked away from her only so I could watch her and try to figure out why my soul was calling out for hers.

It was something, son. I can’t even describe it.

Keep that in mind in twenty-five years when you’re looking for a wife.

If her soul ain’t speaking to yours, she ain’t the one.

I knew she was the one that night, but I also knew I came with a lot of baggage and she was so perfect.

She radiated inner and outer beauty. When she looked at me, it was like she was seeing right through me.

She knew my inner workings. She understood my angst and she had what it took to make me fight against them.

That’s why initially I told her we couldn’t be together, but she persisted.

I’m glad she did because I fell in love with her and I still am, even as I’m in a lot of physical pain writing this letter to you.

Your mother loved me when I didn’t have the courage to love myself.

She jolted me back to life – made me realize that no matter the circumstances, life is always worth living and everyone deserves love.

Is it easy? No. I can attest to that firsthand, especially with the guilt I feel for leaving your mother to raise you alone.

I wanted to be there for your first steps, first words, first birthday, graduations, but I’m going to miss it all.

Here’s what I want you to know more than anything – I love you and I love your mother very much.

She gave me you. She woke something up inside of me.

She made the last year of my life the very best I ever had.

I need you to be a man for her. Love your mother.

Honor her. Protect her just like I did. Give her hugs.

Do good in school. Make us proud. You’ll do big things in life. I’m certain of it.

Love, Dad.

There’s another letter addressed to me. I take a breath before I read it, wipe my eyes, and breathe methodically to slow my pounding heartbeats that are jolting me like baby Judah’s kicks.

To The Love of My Life,

Autumn, baby, where do I begin? It’s because of you that I know what real love is.

Many people fear they will never experience it before they die, but I was one of the fortunate ones who did.

You were it – my one and only true love.

Your love, your light, your loyalty will always live within me and mine will always live within you.

It’s something only you and I shared for a short time, but it felt like an eternity because it was good, quality time.

I savored every moment with you. Every kiss. Every touch. Every hug.

From the moment we met, you changed me. Energized me. You made me eat my words. Made me want something I told myself I couldn’t have. It speaks to your power. Your love. Your unselfishness. I’m passing that along to you.

In case you didn’t know this, every time I laid eyes on you, I felt elation overtake me. Happiness filled my life daily. I smiled internally even if I wasn’t smiling externally. Only you could do that to me.

Only you, my love.

Only you.

Your love for me is indefinite, forever embedded in your heart. You’ll never forget me. Never forget the love we shared for each other. But that love shouldn’t end simply because I’m no longer here. You have so much stored inside of you to give, and it’s my wish that you do just that.

Juju (I hope you like this for his nickname), our baby boy, deserves a happy mother – the woman I fell in love with that day.

The woman who lit my heart on fire. You are amazing – too amazing to be alone.

I don’t want you to be alone. I want you to have love.

I don’t want you crying over me. I want you to think of all the good times we had together and smile.

I want you to raise our son and be happy.

I want you both to be happy. So, when you meet that man whose soul merges with yours, who makes your eyes light up when you see him, who grabs ahold of your heart and never lets go – and you WILL meet him – just know he’s your one.

He’ll love you like I did. Protect you like I did.

And he’ll need you just as much as you need him.

Two broken hearts will make a whole one again.

Death is not the end, sweetheart. We’ll see each other again. Until then, live for me.

I’ll love you forever, Autumn.

-Judah

I know this was supposed to make me feel better, but I’ve sobbed like a baby, tears dropping on this paper like drops of rain. I dab them away to safeguard this note. It will always stay with me.

The sound of the doorbell jolts me. I place the letters back into the folder and in the drawer, closing it before I stand up. I’m not much in the mood for company but as Riley said, the people who love me also loved Judah. I need to keep them in my world if I’m going to get through this.

I walk to the door to find Nico standing there with a bag. Tears instantly come to my eyes. I don’t say a word to him. I just open the storm door and embrace him.

“It’s going to be alright, Autumn.”

“I know, but it’s still hard,” I say, releasing him. “A part of me is gone.”

“Of all of us,” he tells me. I see Judah’s parents heading this way. His mom is toting a casserole dish. Riley’s car is in the driveway, along with another car that I recognize as Tabitha’s. She has Luna and Moriah with her. My parents pull up soon after.

I look at Nico and say, “What is this?”

“It’s us supporting you.”

“You put this together?”

“No. It was all Riley’s idea. She said it was your first day back. She didn’t want you to be over here alone.”

I draw in a deep breath and release it, accepting hugs from all of my family and friends who’ve come here to ensure my well-being. It is overwhelming, but it’s the best thing for me – for all of us.