Part 2:
The kitchen where we had eaten breakfast for twenty-two years.
The floors we had refinished together.
The rooms where we had argued, laughed, forgiven each other, and lived the kind of ordinary life that only becomes extraordinary after it is gone.
I was a tax attorney for thirty years. That matters. I had spent most of my career reading documents people hoped I would skim. I learned how to pay attention to language, structure, omission, and intent.
That skill did not disappear just because the people speaking were family.
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