As I reached the entrance of the apartment complex, I looked down at the urn in my arms and whispered, "Mom, we're almost home."
When I opened the door, Sophie's anger hit me like a wave.
She screamed, "Bradley, were you dead? Why didn't you pick up any of my calls?
It's been two days. Are you still hung up on your jealousy? What's the point?
I can't believe Mom insisted I marry a man like you!"
After her outburst, she seemed to remember something and looked behind me.
Frowning, she asked, "Bradley, where's Mom? You said she was with you, right?"
Gazing at Sophie, I felt an overwhelming sadness.
Julia's biggest regret might have been not seeing Sophie one last time.
If Julia had known her daughter was out gambling on soccer with some guy in her final moments, that might have killed her faster than her illness.
"Don't bother looking," I said quietly. "She's right here."
