The girls and I spent the afternoon with my newly widowed grandmother and my aunt who has been staying with her over my grandfather's final days.
After lunch at the cafeteria, we stopped at the little table where the white roses sit every time there is a death of a resident. That table is seldom empty in this assisted living community and nursing home. We've walked by it many times over the years and seen the framed photos, glancing at the names.
Today, it was our picture and our name, so we stopped.
Pink read it aloud to my grandmother, as her eyes have all but failed her.
And my daughter's voice, sweet and innocent, filled this little corner of loss with light.