It all made sense when I finally understood what Eleanor had been doing.
Every lesson in the kitchen, every dish she had walked me through with quiet patience , she had been teaching me the meals Lewis loved most. She had even told me once, casually, almost in passing, that after she was gone, if Lewis ever craved those flavors, I should be the one to make them. I hadn't understood it then. Now I did. She had been passing something of herself into my hands, making sure a piece of her would remain with him long after she was gone.
She was far from perfect. But from the very beginning to the very end, every choice she made came back to him.
Every mother loves her child.
Even Jeffrey's death had broken something in her that never healed. He had never loved her , not truly , but he had been part of her life, and with him gone, whatever dim hope she had held onto went with him. She had nothing left to hold her here.
