I saw a delivery truck parked in the driveway.
He gestured to the truck. Two other men were already pulling something out of the back. It was enormous. The size of a small refrigerator. Wrapped in brown paper.
There was only one label on it: “To My Mom.”
My address. Nothing else.
It took all three men to carry it inside. They set it down in my living room and left.
Two other men were already pulling something out of the back.
I stood there, staring at it. My hands were shaking as I found a box cutter in the kitchen drawer.
I cut through the tape carefully and opened the top flap.
Right on top was a sealed envelope.
I pulled it out. My name was written on the front… in Darla’s handwriting.
My legs nearly gave out. I sat down on the couch and tore open the envelope with trembling fingers.
My name was written on the front… in Darla’s handwriting.
The letter was dated three weeks before she died. The first line made my heart stop.
“Mom, I know you’re probably confused right now. But if this box has been delivered to you, it means I’m no longer alive.”
I couldn’t breathe as I kept reading.
“There are things you never knew about me. I have to tell you the truth. You’ll understand everything once you open the package.”
I set the letter down and looked back at the box. My mind was racing. What could be in there? What truth had Darla kept from me?
“There are things you never knew about me.”
I thought about all the conversations we’d had in the months before she died.
She seemed tired and distracted. I’d chalked it up to work stress. Now I wondered what I’d missed.
Carefully, I pulled back the flaps. Inside were smaller boxes. Dozens of them.
Each box was carefully labeled in Darla’s handwriting: one for Lily’s 10th birthday, one for Ben’s first day of middle school, one for the day Molly learned to ride a bike, and one for Rosie’s fifth birthday.
There were more gifts for every milestone and every special moment until they turned 18.
She seemed tired and distracted.
Darla had planned for everything. She’d known she wouldn’t be there. The thought sent a chill through me—
how had she known, and when?
At the bottom of the box was another envelope.
I opened it with shaking hands. Inside was another letter.
“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to protect something. Please visit this address. He’ll explain everything.”
Below it was an address in the city, two hours away.
She’d known she wouldn’t be there.
I looked at the clock. It was 9:30 a.m. I had to be at work at 10.
But I couldn’t go to work. Not now.
I made a decision right then. Whatever Darla had hidden, I needed to know. I owed her that much. And I owed it to her children.
I called my boss and told him it was an emergency. He wasn’t happy, but he agreed. Then I grabbed my keys, locked the house, and got in my car.
Whatever I was about to discover, I’d face it head-on.
Whatever Darla had hidden, I needed to know.
***
The address led me to a small house on the edge of the city. I knocked on the door, my heart pounding.
A man in his late 30s answered.
“Can I help you?”
“My name is Carolyn. I’m Darla’s mother. I received a package this morning. With this address.”
His face changed immediately.
“Carolyn? Yes. Please come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
I followed him inside.
The address led me to a small house.
“I’m William,” he said. “I was your daughter’s doctor.”
