After my father died six years ago, my mom, Colleen, seemed to become a shadow of herself. They had been college sweethearts, married for 32 years. The kind of love that didn’t need a spotlight—morning coffee, a kiss on the temple before he left for work, socks folded just right. After his passing, she was left with only memories, and I, calling her every day from two states away, couldn’t fill the emptiness at her dinner table.
Then came Raymond.
Raymond, an accounting professor from her work at the community college, started showing up at the house. He’d bring her lunch and offer to fix things around the house. For the first time since Dad’s passing, Mom was laughing again.
