A Half Hour a Day

So, here are the mugs:

Our time at the apartment was even harder than expected.  My grandmother came to her apartment one last time with the family, for closure I expect.  However, I wonder if the visit did more harm than good.  She sat silently, watching her life packed into boxes, playing her stereo one last time.  She let the music say all the things she couldn’t, playing it louder when the words were particularly appropos.  She played this song the loudest of all.

Singing the Blues

When I readied to leave, she took my hand and said, “Your Pepiere is with me all the time now, in my dreams and in the day.  He’s waiting for me.”