The cemetery where Daniel is buried sits on a hill where the winter wind is strong.
We found his headstone in the fading afternoon light. Beside it rested another smaller marker—Buddy, our golden retriever, who survived the fire and lived three more years.
I placed the cake gently on Daniel’s headstone.
Ben stood beside me in silence for a long moment.
We cut the cake with a small plastic knife from the bakery bag.
Snow began to fall lightly across the cemetery.
For decades I had spent this day alone at that grave. It felt different to have someone standing beside me who understood what the date meant.
Ben handed me a piece of cake. I did the same for him.
