It’s done when nobody’s watching, and it stays with you.
That evening, she tearfully begged my forgiveness, promising to “change.” I hugged her, because a mother always hugs her child, even when her heart is broken.
But deep down, something had shifted.
Tuesdays with Marc continued. We went to see small fishing ports, hilltop chapels, and vineyards. Sometimes he would come without his motorcycle, simply to play cards or chat with my neighbors.
I met some of his former firefighter colleagues, retirees like him. They took me in like a kind of grandmother figure at the fire station. One brought me tomatoes from his garden, another came to change a lightbulb that was too high for me.
When Marc had a heart attack last spring, they were the ones who came to get me at the residence to take me to the hospital. They gave me a
