It was a cloudy day in late January. Joe was just about to put Katrina down for a nap when the phone rang. He picked up. "Bonjour?"

"Hi, is this Joseph?" A female voice asked.

"Oui," said Joe, confused.

"My name is Lizzie, I'm a friend of Heather's. I've finally been able to scrounge together a memorial service for her. Would you like to come?"

Why, of course. Joe was actually a bit surprised he hadn't gotten this phone call sooner. "Je vais être là." (I will be there.) After a few more polite words with Lizzie, he hung up the phone to put Katrina down.


When Saturday evening came around, Joe, with Katrina in her carrier, arrived at a nice park with a gentle willow hanging over a bench. Nearby, a few people were talking kindly with each other. When he arrived, they all looked over and came to coo over the baby.

"You must be Joseph," said a woman with curly brown hair; Joe suspected this must be Lizzie. "I really appreciate that you took the baby."

"Eh bien, elle est ma fille aussi," said Joe, "elle est ma responsabilité." (Well, she's my daughter too, she's my responsibility.)

Once everyone Lizzie invited had arrived, she handed everyone a candle, and they stood in a circle. "We are gathered here tonight to honour the memory of Heather Sanders. She was a dear friend to us all, she brought light to our lives, and it is on us to keep the light shining."

She nodded to the woman standing next to her, a tall woman with bushy, neck-length auburn hair. "I was Heather's roommate," she said. "I was by her side through everything. I helped her get to work, to the doctor's for ultrasounds, I helped her grocery shop…"

She pursed her lips with tears forming in her big green eyes, clearly too distraught to continue. She passed the attention to the man next to her. Joe took a closer look; why, that was Hoy Quarlow! He had seen his picture in the WVBA Hall of Fame. He didn't know he was a friend of Heather's. Hoy stepped forward. "I lived not far from Heather. She was a kind woman; she often came over and we had dinner together. Her life was a blessing."

Things were silent for a moment, until Joe realized it was his turn to speak. "Je ne savais pas Heather pour beaucoup de temps..." He paused, thinking of the best thing to say. "...mais je suis reconnaissant pour notre temps ensemble et pour la belle fille qu'elle me donne." (I didn't know Heather for long...but I'm grateful for our time together and for the beautiful daughter she gave me.)

Joe didn't pay much attention to the other eulogies; he instead held Katrina tight, making sure to keep the candle's flame safely away from her. He felt terrible that she was going to have to grow up without her mommy, but alas, it was the hand that life dealt them.

When the last loving goodbye had been spoken, Lizzie guided all the guests to raise their candles. "To Heather."

"To Heather!" All of the candles were raised in the air until the wind blew out the very last one.


Joe felt strange when he arrived home. He felt like he didn't belong at a memorial for someone he barely knew.

…But then, Katrina knew her mother very well for the short time she was there.

He sighed and sat on the couch with his daughter cradled in his arms. He didn't really know what to feel.

He soon received a message from Lizzie.

Elizabeth sent: Seriously, thank you for coming. It means a lot to me. Heather's family all cut her out, so I was really appreciative to have at least someone there who really loved her. (8:04 pm)

Loved? Joe wasn't quite sure he could say he loved Heather. After all, they had only met once, for one night. Rather, he would say he appreciated her, for caring for his daughter until her untimely demise. Still, he was happy he had helped Lizzie with her grief.

Joseph sent: ❤ (8:06 pm)