Devastated After Burying My Wife, I Took My Son on Vacation – My Blood Ran Cold When He Said, ‘Dad, Look, Mom’s Back!’

My world stopped. I couldn’t comprehend the words. “No, that’s impossible,” I remember saying, but the harsh truth quickly set in. Stacey had been in an accident caused by a drunk driver. She was gone, just like that. I barely remember the flight home or walking into our empty house. Her parents had taken care of everything, and the funeral was already over by the time I got back.

I was too numb to argue, too overwhelmed to question why I hadn’t been given the chance to say a final goodbye. I should have pushed harder. But grief has a way of clouding your judgment.

Two months later, the house felt like a mausoleum. Stacey’s clothes still hung in the closet, and her favorite mug sat by the sink, untouched. The weight of memories was unbearable. My son, Luke, was struggling too. His innocent questions about why Mommy couldn’t come home tore me apart.