I immediately placed my hand over my unborn daughter.
“Please don’t bring her into this.”
Violet looked away.
The conversation ended there.
But the tension remained.
At Mark’s memorial service, the subject came up again.
One relative told me how meaningful it was that Mark wanted to help other people.
Violet overheard.
“You shouldn’t be celebrating this,” she said.
I turned toward her.
“Violet, this isn’t the place.”
“You made the decision.”
“No. Mark made the decision.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t believe he would have wanted this.”
That was when I finally understood how serious the disagreement had become.
She wasn’t simply grieving.
She was beginning to question whether Mark had truly been capable of making his own choices.
That night, I finally opened the envelope.
Inside was a small memory drive and a handwritten note.
It said:
“Don’t watch this simply because you miss me. Watch it if someone makes you question my decisions—or if you begin questioning yourself.”
I stared at the words for a long time.
Then I connected the drive to my computer.
Mark appeared on the screen.
He looked thinner than I remembered, but his eyes were unmistakably his.
“If you’re watching this because you miss me,” he began, “stop the video.”
I laughed through my tears.
“You don’t get to boss me around anymore.”
Then his expression became serious.
