Chapter 26
The years kept passing.
Quietly.
Beautifully.
Liam went to college on a soccer scholarship.
Studied engineering.
Sophia went to Parsons.
Just like her mother.
Just like her grandmother.
She was going to be the third generation of Salazar women to build something beautiful from nothing.
I couldn’t have been prouder.
Ethan and I were in our seventies now.
Still healthy.
Still active.
Still very much in love.
We traveled less.
Stayed closer to home.
Spent our days gardening.
Cooking.
Reading.
Holding hands on the porch swing.
The big house was too big for just the two of us.
But we couldn’t bring ourselves to sell.
Too many memories.
Every room held a story.
Every corner held laughter and tears and love.
Diego retired at sixty-five.
He and Maria bought a small house down the street.
We saw them every day.
Coffee in the morning.
Dinner at least twice a week.
Our relationship was never what it had been when we were kids.
Too much water under the bridge.
Too much pain.
But it was good.
Solid.
Loving.
He was my brother.
And I was his sister.
And that was enough.
Carlos passed away at seventy-two.
Heart attack.
Sudden.
Painless.
The whole family grieved.
Carlos had been the protector.
The enforcer.
The one who’d always had my back.
We buried him with full Salazar honors.
Hundreds of people came.
Stories were told.
Toasts were made.
He’d lived a good life.
A full life.
Loved and respected by everyone who knew him.
And he’d left behind a legacy of children and grandchildren who were just like him.
Strong.
Loyal.
Fiercely protective of family.
The Salazar way.
I turned seventy-five that year.
Seventy-five.
Three quarters of a century.
It sounded impossible.
But here I was.
Still here.
Still fighting.
Still loving.
The family threw me a party I’d never forget.
One hundred and twenty-seven people.
Four generations of Salazars.
Every single one of them there to celebrate me.
I stood up to make a speech.
The room went quiet.
All those faces looking at me.
Young.
Old.
In between.
All of them mine.
All of them loved.
“I’m not going to make a long speech,” I said. “I’m too old for that. And you’re all too hungry. But I do want to say one thing.”
I looked out at them.
At Ethan.
At Elena and James.
At Diego and Maria.
At Liam and Sophia.
At all the cousins.
The aunts.
The uncles.
The great-grandchildren running around underfoot.
“Seventy-five years is a long time. I’ve seen a lot. Done a lot. Been through things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. And been blessed with things I never deserved. I’ve lost people I loved more than life itself. And gained people I couldn’t imagine living without.”
I paused.
Wiped a tear from my eye.
“But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in seventy-five years… it’s this. Family isn’t about blood. Well… it is about blood. But it’s about more than that. It’s about showing up. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. It’s about forgiving. Even when you don’t want to. It’s about loving. Even when you’re scared. Even when you’ve been hurt before. Because love is the only thing that lasts. The only thing that matters. Everything else fades. Money. Fame. Success. It all goes away. But family? Family stays. Forever.”
I raised my glass.
“So here’s to us. The Salazars. May we always love each other. Always protect each other. Always be there for each other. Through the good times and the bad. Through everything. Because that’s what we do. That’s who we are. Salazars never quit. And Salazars never leave anyone behind. Cheers.”
The room erupted.
Cheering.
Crying.
Toasting.
And as I looked out at all the people I loved…
I knew.
My legacy was secure.
It wasn’t in the buildings I’d designed.
Or the awards I’d won.
Or the money I’d made.
It was in these people.
In their love.
In their strength.
May you like
In the way they’d carry on long after I was gone.
That was the greatest achievement of all.
