“Every single evening when we set the kitchen table for supper, my children arrange five matching ceramic plates across the surface,” Rebecca continued.

“There is always one plate for me, three plates for my children, and a fifth plate reserved exclusively for him.”

Clarence touched his shaking fingertips to his chest, his breath catching in his throat as he processed her words.

“They actually save a dinner setting for me every night?” Clarence whispered with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“My youngest boy asks me at the front window every single dusk whether his grandfather is coming through the front door to eat with us,” Rebecca told him.

“He throws a terrible tantrum if I try to clear that fifth empty plate away before the sun goes down.”