For years, she carried an extra plate without explanation. In doing so, she changed a life. In losing her, I learned that love does not disappear. It adapts. It waits. It finds a new way forward.
Now, every Christmas, when I wrap that extra plate, I feel her with me. Not as a memory frozen in time, but as a presence guiding my choices. And I understand, finally, that the greatest inheritance she left behind was not something she owned, but something she practiced.
