“He’s gone. I won’t make any big decisions for a year. They all said I shouldn’t.” She said, wiping her tears away.
Kay’s husband, 22 years older than her, was in an advanced stage of Alzheimer's. He’d sit on their back porch, watching me plant impatiens in the beds in our backyard. Kay, in her late 60s, would walk to the hedge that divided us, telling me how her decision, years ago, to lay sod was the best she’d ever made. I always agreed. It looked perfect.
A few months after Frank died, Kay had her sod ripped out and replaced.