I was buttoning up my coat to go to my husband’s funeral when my grandson burst into the garage, pale as a ghost. “Grandma, don’t start the car! Please don’t!”

I was buttoning up my coat to go to my husband’s funeral when my grandson burst into the garage, pale as a ghost. “Gran, don’t start the car! Please, don’t!” His cry stopped me in my tracks. I could barely whisper, “Why? What’s happening?” He grabbed my hand so tightly it hurt. “Trust me. We have to walk. Now.” As …