A few days ago my 2-year-old randomly pointed to her dad, my husband and asked me “Mommy is that your daddy?”

I said “No, that’s your daddy, mommy’s daddy is in Heaven.”

She looked at me like, where is that?

End of conversation, but knowing my inquisitive daughter I know it will come up again.

Yesterday I took her to my dad’s grave. A place I’ve been less than nine times since he passed nearly nine years ago.

She pushed metal flowers in the ground next to his grave, then she wanted to play with the ABC’s (the engraving).

I felt my emotions coming, so before they could I suggested we sing happy birthday and go.

In that beautiful little toddler high pitch voice of hers joined by my husband and nephew she led the birthday song. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to granddaddy Ronnie, happy birthday to you. Yayyyyyy.”

She clapped and as we walked back to the car for the first I felt a little peace leaving his resting place.

Faith and granddaddy