My son begged me to cancel the trip and save the money for emergencies, but my daughter Mikayla quietly helped me pack. Once aboard, I found a bottle of wine and a sealed note from Frank in my cabin, yet I could not bring myself to open either. I ordered two coffees by habit, joined a gathering for widowed passengers, danced badly beside the pool, and slowly remembered that grief had not ended my life. On the fifth evening, the captain placed the tablet beside me, and Mikayla appeared on the screen. She admitted that Frank had arranged everything before he died and asked me to open the red box.
