After the beach: lawyers, custody, and the new kind of grief
The weeks after were a blur of logistics and rage.
Lawyers.
Paperwork.
Custody arrangements.
Me learning how to answer Luke’s questions without poisoning his entire childhood.
Stacey’s parents tried to contact me, but I shut it down. They weren’t innocent. They helped stage my wife’s disappearance and robbed my son of any kind of real goodbye.
One month later, I sat in my lawyer’s office and signed the final papers.
“Full custody,” she said. “And generous support arrangements, given the circumstances. She didn’t contest anything.”
I nodded, feeling empty rather than relieved.
“And the confidentiality clause?” I asked.
