I step up to a photo in the mosaic: it’s Richard and me outside Colby. We sent them this one over the summer. In it, our hands interlace in the foreground, where our ring catches all the light. I can’t believe Richard and I haven’t visited here before. I know it’s been complicated for him to stay close with his grandparents when Vanessa doesn’t do the same. But it’s achy to think about this room going empty.
I don’t get the last sentence?
