It was the perfect spot to take Justin and Lyla if they felt sad or wanted a connection point to their mom. A small plaque on the back of the bench read: Chelsea Foley, beloved mother and sister. Her light will shine on us always.

“Are you guys ready?” Anna asked as she held Lyla’s hand.

Lyla nodded, holding tight to the special paper Anna had purchased. It was biodegradable and contained seeds for all sorts of different flowers. Each of the kids had written a letter to Chelsea, and now we were going to bury them not far from the water’s edge, near the bench.

I let my arm slip from Justin’s shoulders and reached for my shovel. “Put them in there, and I’ll cover them up. Then we can water them.”

Lyla came forward first, kissing her paper and placing it in a hole to the left of the bench. She gently patted it down. “Okay.”

I heaped a pile of dirt on top and then looked at Justin, giving him an encouraging nod. He stepped forward to the hole to the right of the bench and crouched down. As he stared at his paper, his shoulders began to shake. I let the shovel fall and moved to him in a flash, pulling him into my arms and holding on tight.

His small body shook with the force of a much larger one. “I-I miss her so much.”

“I know.”

Anna moved in with Lyla, and we ended up in a huddle, surrounding Justin as he cried.

“It-it’ll never be the same. She won’t see me play soccer or make my favorite cookies. We used to make these forts and camp out in the living room. We’ll never get to do that again.”

Justin’s broken voice shredded whatever was left in my chest. I would’ve given anything to take away his pain. “It won’t be the same, you’re right. And you’re always going to miss her.” I locked eyes with Anna over his head. “But maybe you can share some of those things with us, and we can do them together.”

Lyla let out a little sniffle. “Mase and Anna are really good cooks. I bet they can get Mom’s chocolate chip cookie recipe and make them.”

Anna squeezed Justin’s shoulder. “I know there’s a box of cookbooks and recipes in the storage unit. We can go get it tomorrow.”

“O-okay,” Justin agreed. His voice was still shaky, but he straightened.

“You ready for this, or do you want to wait? There’s no rush,” I told him.

“I want to do it now.”

“Okay.”

He stared at the paper again, but this time when he crouched low, he didn’t break down. He pressed the letter into the hole and patted it down. “Love you, Mom.”