I had intended to tell Yedda that her beloved mother was gone, but hearing her tone, I realized it no longer mattered.
"Yedda, forget the photo. Let's get a divorce."
Saying those words brought a sense of relief.
I never imagined I would be the one to walk away.
But the feeling of utter desolation made it impossible to forgive her as I once had.
After handling Adelaide's affairs, I wiped away my tears and headed to the photography studio.
The young woman at the front desk informed me that the photographer would be late and suggested I wait.
She was carrying a pizza to the meeting room and kindly offered. "Would you like to join me?"
I shook my head.
I didn't want to eat pizza ever again.
I was an orphan, and no one had ever made pizza just for me.
That changed when I visited Yedda's family. Adelaide had pushed a large pizza toward me, urging me to eat more.
She knew I had a rough upbringing and treated me like a son.
She'd said, "If you ever want more, just ask—I'll make them for you anytime."
Adelaide wasn't just my mother-in-law; she was like a real mother to me.
Now that she was gone, the family felt broken beyond repair.
The thought brought tears to my eyes.