It started out like any other Wednesday night. She had come home from swimming. She loved the feel of the water gliding over her body and the smell of the chlorine. Most people don't like that smell but she does. It reminds her of a simpler time not filled with loss. That is probably what did it. It was the smell that brought back the memories.

For her, it was always smells, or worse, the absence of smell that brought forth the most potent memories. The smell of that particular cinnamon cologne or the smell of old files. Pulling those files was like being an archeologist digging through the past to find the answers in today. Oh, good lord, she was being extra sentimental today. For someone wrapped up in Thanksgiving's past, you would think the memories associated with smells would be that of turkey and stuffing, not chlorine and old musty files.

Fighting the urge to just go home and put on comfy clothes, she changed into her travel clothes and put her face to right. Let them try to see any cracks. "I double dog dare you to see one extra wrinkle or tear" she thought as she dressed. "I can deal with their memories. I just can't deal with mine." And on that final note and with a lift of her chin, she walked to her car and started the drive to the place that was now empty and full at the same time.

As she had always done, since he was small, she double honked her car horn so he would know that she had arrived. Sometimes, she had been met at the car with a happy carefree smile and, other times, he had waited at the house, a strong soldier awaiting the enemy. It always depended if his mother was at home. Today, not only was she greeted by him at the car, but by his wife and three children as dear to her as he was.

"Paul."

"Della."

Their names spoken to each other, just to each other, carried so much weight. Love, memories, hope. "I've missed you." They said to each other and in that moment their eyes met and told each other of the loss they were feeling and that it was okay.

And then, taking them away from each other's pain, the horde descended. Maureen, Paul's wife of 10 years, Paula 8 years old in remberance of her paternal grandfather, Marie 5 years old, named for Maureen's mother and finally Drew 2 years old, named for Della. All of them descended on Della, taking her bag and giving hugs and shouting to get her attention.

Paul put his fingers to lips and whistled. The shrill noise cut through the welcome and stopped everyone where they were. It was an old trick from his father, that always seem to bring calm to the bunch that was the Drake household. "Okay, everybody let's let get GranDella out of the car. Paula, please take her bag to her room, Marie can you let go of GranDella's leg, Maureen, here please take Drew, he's spitting up on my foot." With those calm words, Paul guided Della into the house.

Della just laughed and was swept up the stairs and into the house.

Hours later, the children in bed with teeth brushed, stories read and tucked in, Della and Paul sat the living room in the front of the fire. Maureen, knowing the two needed time alone, excused herself to bed. Paul grinned at her and asked if she needed to be read a bedtime story too and she just laughed and patted her stomach and said, "That's how we got this one."

Before leaving them with the smile she always seemed to have, she gave her husband a soft kiss and then wrapped her arms around Della a bit tighter than usual. Her hug seemed to say, "I don't want to know the emptiness that you live with, but we all love you. Please stay with us." Or maybe Della was reading too much into hugs these days. She felt old, alone and felt the pull of being with her children.

Della kissed Maureen and spoke aloud "I love you. Not Paul's wife or the mother of my grandchildren, I love you Maureen. You are a gift to everyone who knows you. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of them. I just wanted you to know that."

"Oh, Della!" Maureen said. "I love you so much! Thank you for being there for Paul when he needed a mother and thank you for being such a wonderful grandmother to my children. I can't tell you how much I love you." Maureen answered with another hug and then with a soft look at her husband she went to bed.

Della just stared into the fire and tried to gather herself. She was never this emotional. She would like to blame the holiday but the pull of memories had been torturing her for the last couple of months. Turning 70 seemed to ignite the past so much that the present couldn't compete. She always said that she didn't celebrate birthdays after 39 but her body didn't agree anymore. She felt old. She was old. She missed Paul. She missed Perry.

Suddenly she started crying, no, not crying, sobbing. Paul seemed to ready for this and was at her feet and pulling her to him, engulfing her in a rib breaking hug. Riding out the horror of loss, he cried with her. There was nothing but love, utter loneliness and understanding between the them as they cried with each other. It was safe.

Paul was not her son. Della was not his mother but the love they shared didn't care what their titles were. They loved and knew each other. With a loud sniff, Della gathered herself and looked into Paul's beautiful blue eyes "Paul, I want to stay. I miss Perry sooo much, I can't live without him, you, Maureen and the children anymore. You won't make me live without him anymore will you?" Della asked. She was afraid to talk about Perry because the loss of him a year ago right after Thanksgiving might be too much after the death of Paul the Christmas before.

They rarely talked of Paul and now Perry. Finding Paul at the wheel of his convertible with Christmas presents in the back seat was too hard to bear. She thought Perry's heart died that day. His friend, his brother, his conscience was dead. Perry just seemed to shrink. They did one more case and then he was gone too. He died at his desk. Della found him with head on his arms on his desk. She thought he had fallen asleep and smiled and said "Sweetheart, time to go." Not understanding the true meaning of those words, she went to put a kiss on his forehead and realized he left without saying goodbye.

Della tried not to remember the hours and days that followed. She ignored the good natured calls and visits and stayed in their bed and cried. Finally, Paul came and laid with her and cried with her and then called Maureen to help get her into the shower. Then, the Della that the world knew emerged like a butterfly, ready to greet the people who came to mourne with her. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. She just wanted to scream. They didn't know him, they didn't love him, they didn't understand him like she did. She was greedy with her grief.

Their contemporaries were fewer as age and sickness had taken so many, but Paul's and then Perry's, funerals were well attended by old and new friends. Della didn't care. She just missed her boys. Now, as she sat in Paul's wonderful chaotic home, she wanted to stay. She again was greedy for she knew she was next and despite the pain that would bring Paul, she didn't want to be alone and so, she asked the one thing, she never asked anyone before "Can I stay with you and care of me? I'm tired Paul."

Paul, her wonderfully unconventional son, gathered her in his arms and softly said to her "Della, let me show you home. We've been waiting for you." With that, he showed her home within his home. The home that he and his family have been planning and building for the past year.

Paul opened the door and the first thing Della saw was a handmade sloppy colorful wonderful sign shouting "WELCOME GranDella". Everyone had chosen a different color of paint to put on their palms with their names on it. Even the new baby. It glowed blue. It was a kaleidoscope of mismatched color and shapes. It was perfect.

"Oh Paul." Della sighed and reached for his hand, which was there. They stood there and then were joined silently by Maureen, Paula, Marie and even sleepy Drew in Maureen's arms.

Maureen spoke for all of them, "GranDella, please stay with us." Her words meant more than living in their house. It meant, fight to stay with us, just fight.

Della looked at her children and decided to do just that and with her signature smile she said "You don't know what you are getting yourselves in to, but I am NOT leaving this wonderful home." With that, the Drake, Street and Mason household was complete.