BLOG POST-43 Blanket of Love
Blanket of Love Sometimes love finds a way to say what words cannot. Most mornings, his daughter-in-law noticed the same thing. He would sit at the breakfast table, his tea growing cold beside him, staring at something only he could see. It had been a month since the 84-year-old man had moved in with his son's family, bringing only his dog and two suitcases. His wife had passed away quietly in her sleep, the way everyone said they wanted to go. But there was nothing quiet about the emptiness she had left behind. Sometimes, while eating breakfast, he would pause mid-bite, remembering how she always burned the toast just slightly. A small smile would flicker across his face before disappearing again. Other times, usually in the evenings, his daughter-in-law would find him sitting on the porch, his cheeks wet, the dog's head resting on his knee. She would sit b...