In the end, I couldn’t ask for the bracelet back. It was now part of her story, a tangible memory of the mother she barely knew. Perhaps, I thought, Emily would have wanted it that way—to be part of this child’s life, offering comfort in her absence.
I left the park with a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. The bracelet had found its way to someone who needed it, just as I had needed to let go. Emily was gone, but her spirit lived on in ways I couldn’t have imagined. And for the first time, that thought didn’t break my heart. It healed it.