Today as I was cleaning the condo and while in the bathroom I had a scary moment. I was moving things around on the bathroom vanity I heard the bowl in my hand clink against the porcelain sink. My heart sank as I thought I might have broken the bowl. Now this bowl is old and anyone one would think what’s the big deal? It doesn’t look like it’s worth anything. But it is special; Paul gave it to me and there is a story behind it. Of course the story is meaningful only to me, but if another bereaved parent should read this they would understand.



