to each other.
That’s not a secret.
That’s the last, greatest act of love of a life that was far too short.
A strange woman stood at my daughter’s grave and said she’d made a promise.
The promise was my daughter’s final gift.
Two grandmothers, one grandson, and a truth that turned three separate griefs into one whole family.
My daughter couldn’t stay.
But she made sure, before she went, that no one she loved would have to grieve her alone.
I raised her son thinking I was the only family he had.
It turned out my daughter had arranged, from beyond her own grave, for him to have twice the family—
and for me to have a friend who understood the one thing no one else on earth could.
Thank you, Emily.
We’re taking care of each other.
Just like you asked.
