After we laid my husband to rest, my son drove me to a quiet road outside town and said, “This is where you get out. 0
hen I married Nicholas in 1981, and remained that person until three weeks ago, the day after we buried him. I’m 68 years old, with arthritic hands that still remember how to bake the sourdough bread my son Brandon used to beg for on Sunday mornings, and the way my daughter Melissa’s hair felt when…