On Grandpa's 60th birthday, the core members of the Sterling family gathered together.
I kept Grandpa entertained with witty remarks, making him laugh until his eyes crinkled. Some of my aunts and uncles held Mom's hands, complimenting her on how well she looked, how vibrant she seemed.
There was no trace of pity in their voices—only genuine, unreserved admiration. On the drive home, the golden evening light streamed through the car windows, bathing Mom in a warm, honeyed glow.
She leaned back in her seat, quietly watching the street scenery drift by, more relaxed than I'd ever seen her.
"Vivian," she said suddenly, her voice soft, "are you scared? The road ahead might require more of us than ever before."
I took her hand. Her palm was warm and steady. "No. With you leading the way, I
