Living is a whole new adventure when you suddenly find yourself alone, widowed and the mother of four young boys a lot like their Dad.
Why I Keep Your Helmet
I keep the helmet you wore when you died in the storage room. I don’t see it often, but enough. On good days, I pass right by it. On hard days, I stare at it and forget why I came into the storage room. It is in the Grant section on a shelf where it stays.
