“During my grandmother’s 85th birthday celebration, my husband suddenly leaned toward me.”

The warmth of my grandmother’s 85th birthday celebration had been a fragile, glittering facade, a veneer that masked the storm that was about to descend on our. The living room, decked in pastel balloons and shimmering streamers. Had once echoed with laughter and clinking glasses. The scent of baked honey cake and lavender cookies had mingled with the faint aroma of my grandmother’s favorite rose perfume, filling the house with a comforting familiarity. Yet that comfort now seemed almost unreal, as though we had all been actors on a stage, unaware of the… CONTINUE READING…