Leo was four when he saw an old photo. “Who is that?”
“That’s my mother,” I said. “Your grandmother.”
“Why isn’t she with us?”
“She made mistakes,” Sophia told him gently. “She loved us, but she didn’t know how to show it right.”
He thought for a moment. “Did she love me?”
“More than anything,” I said. “She just didn’t know how to say it.”
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