The letter was dated three weeks before her death. The first line took my breath away:
“Mom, I know you’re probably very confused right now. But if they’ve delivered this box to you, it means I’m no longer alive.”
“There are important things you didn’t know about me. I have to tell you the truth now. You’ll understand everything when you open the package completely.”
With trembling hands, I carefully opened the large box. Inside were dozens and dozens of smaller boxes, each one meticulously labeled in Darla’s precise handwriting.
One box for Lily’s tenth birthday. Another for Ben’s first day of secondary school. Another for Molly learning to ride a bike. Another for Rosie’s fifth birthday celebration
