I would always miss Mary.
But when our daughters eventually asked why she wasn’t there, I wouldn’t tell them they’d cost me her life.
I’d explain that she’d loved them before seeing their faces.
I’d tell them about her laughter.
And I’d tell them that when she asked me to trust her, I did.
I kissed their foreheads and switched off the light.
Tomorrow, they’d wake hungry.
Their grandmother would return.
And together, we’d keep telling them about Mary.