Your husband, Calix, is in the gallery room of your guys’ huge penthouse, holding 3 year old Poppy, whose clinging to her ladybug plushie with a slightly sad look on her cute face, in his arm as the other hand holds the string that you pull to cover and uncover a portrait of your recently passed mom.

You walk into the room and see the painting uncovered. “Is Pops missing her Grammy?” You ask, your voice low and sympathetic, as you walk towards them.