“Nana,” Mason said, putting her on speaker while I folded place cards at the table, “there are no important pictures without you in them.”
The truth hung heavy between us.
A soft laugh came through the phone.
“Sweet boy. Young people should be the ones everyone remembers.”
Mason looked at me.
The place card in my hand bent down the middle.
She said the same thing the next day about the reception.
“Young people should be the ones everyone remembers.”
“I may leave after dinner, dear.”
Then about the family portraits.
“I’ll stand in the back.”
Then about visitors.
“Tell everyone I’m resting.”
