Sixty-three Year Old Widow Refused to Hide Her Gray Hair at Work

“It looks beautiful, Mom,” she said, her voice softening. “Really beautiful.”

“It is just my natural hair, Cynthia,” I said.

She smiled, a real smile that went all the way to eyes, and pulled me into a brief, warm hug that smelled of white roses and sugar.

“Arthur is here,” she whispered into my ear before she let go. “He is standing by the cake table,continue reading …