That is not where this story started, though, as it actually began months earlier with a deep grief moving into my bones so quietly I did not realize it was living there.
My name is Gwen Parker and I am fifty two years old with a son named Hudson and a daughter named Paige who are both grown and living on their own.
Both of my children are decent people, which is a blessing I did not appreciate enough until I found myself surrounded by individuals who were quite the opposite.
For most of my life, I believed I had something ordinary and steady because I was not glamorous and I did not have a dramatic marriage.
I married Russell when I was thirty years old because he was stable and polite in public, so I never questioned what sat underneath his mask of a dependable man.
We built a life in the quiet suburbs of Ohio while living in a corporate townhouse tied to the regional construction supplier where Russell worked as a senior manager.
It was not our dream home, but it was practical with low rent and enough room for the four of us to live comfortably.