The Quickrete was piled on a pallet on the patio exactly where the delivery man had placed it two days ago. It hadn’t rained, thank goodness, and it was time to finish the basement project.

Working kept their minds off of the loss. The baby was only three months old, but she had touched them. She cried a lot with colic and gas, but she was angelic when she did sleep. They wiped their tears and carried bags of mix downstairs.

One corner of the basement had a hole in the floor. A sump pump used to go there before the city provided sewage service. They mixed water and Quickrete in a wheelbarrow and readied their shovels and trowels.

Neither looked in the hole as they dropped wet cement in by shovelfuls. Neither spoke, for only words of sorrow would have spewed forth and they would have lost the momentum to go on.

When it was smooth and level, they heaved huge sighs of relief. They hosed off the tools, put everything away and finally relaxed.

Soon no one would know they had done anything.