3rd anniversary - or, Happy Lito Day

I'm sitting in the same room where exactly three years ago we said the final goodbye.  (I mean, I said it.  You said nothing.  You just let all the air out, and I mean ALL the air out, and you were done.)  It's the same room where we watched so much golf and football and Arthur and Curious George and Madagascar together.  The room and the couch and the TV and the beer are all still here.  Only you're missing, oh so missing.

We shall visit your grave today and we shall eat something you would have liked (no, we're not going to Fellini's, don't even think about it).  We will cry a little and hopefully laugh a lot.  

Liam in action at Fellini's pizza - her favorite place.  She liked to go there with friends, not with us.  For her, heaven was not something imaginary and not in the sky.  It's half a block from home.  She loved the food, no doubt, but also the freedom, eating without utensils like everybody else, BEING just like everybody else.  Please put the pizza and the salad in front of me.  I can take it from here.

Did you know that spaghetti is also a finger food?

Happy Lito Day.  Lito was one of Liam's many nicknames.  It started from her native American name "Little Toes".  But her parents too often mispronounced it and it cutely became Litoto.  From there the way to just Lito was short.  And that name stuck.