Life had never been easy, but it became even harder when there was no one by your side. When you had no one to share your news with, no one to talk to about your worries, and worst of all, no one to share those rare moments of happiness we live for.
At fifty, I found myself truly alone. I had no husband and no children, and though I often told myself that it had been my choice, deep down I knew that was only a story I repeated to avoid the truth.
More likely, it was the consequence of something that had happened long ago, something that had changed the course of my life in ways I never dared to admit.
The only family I had left was my father, and I worried constantly about what would happen if anything happened to him.
That was why I made the decision to move closer, to a neighboring town, where I could be near him and make sure he was all right.
He tried to talk me out of it, kept saying he could manage just fine on his own, but I was convinced that the move would be good for both of us.