The funeral home\u2019s soft lighting cast gentle shadows across Grandma\u2019s peaceful face. Her silver hair was arranged just the way she always wore it, and someone had put her favorite pearl necklace around her neck.<\/p>\n
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My fingers traced the smooth wood of the casket as memories flooded back. Just last month, we\u2019d been sitting in her kitchen, sharing tea and laughter while she taught me her secret sugar cookie recipe.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmerald, honey, she\u2019s watching over you now, you know,\u201d Mrs. Anderson, our next-door neighbor, placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. \u201cYour grandmother never stopped talking about her precious grandchild.\u201d<\/p>\n
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I wiped away a stray tear. \u201cRemember how she used to make those incredible apple pies? The whole neighborhood would know it was Sunday just from the smell.\u201d<\/p>\n
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