My name is Margaret, and I never imagined my life would unfold the way it did. I wasn’t always someone people considered strong. I spent most of my years working as a school librarian—quiet, routine-loving, and known around town for my blueberry muffins every Friday and the baby blankets I knitted for every new arrival at church. My world shifted when I lost my husband to cancer at 42, and my only child, Anna, became the reason I kept going. Anna had her father’s warm smile and my stubborn streak. At 27, she had a successful marketing job, a cozy house just down the street, and most importantly, a beautiful little boy—my grandson, Ethan—with soft curls and the biggest brown eyes you’d ever seen. She used to tell me, “Mom, you worry too much. Ethan’s going to be just fine.” But nothing can prepare you for how suddenly…
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My name is Margaret, and I never imagined my life would unfold the way it did. I wasn’t always someone people considered strong. I spent most of my years working as a school librarian—quiet, routine-loving, and known around town for my blueberry muffins every Friday and the baby blankets I knitted for every new arrival at church. My world shifted when I lost my husband to cancer at 42, and my only child, Anna, became the reason I kept going. Anna had her father’s warm smile and my stubborn streak. At 27, she had a successful marketing job, a cozy house just down the street, and most importantly, a beautiful little boy—my grandson, Ethan—with soft curls and the biggest brown eyes you’d ever seen. She used to tell me, “Mom, you worry too much. Ethan’s going to be just fine.” But nothing can prepare you for how suddenly…
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