After Losing My Husband, a Family Discussion Surprised Me With a Source of Comfort I Didn’t Expect

Stepson, Nineteen and Grieving Too

My stepson was nineteen at the time. Bright. Healthy. So tall that when he stood in a doorway, there were moments — brief, disorienting moments — when he looked so much like his father that it physically hurt to look directly at him. I’d catch myself staring a half-second too long, and he’d notice, and neither of us continue reading …