mow the lawn

My boss, a woman I've gotten to know over the years, just left with her daughter, a girl who has grown from a toddler into a seven-year-old while I have worked here. On their way upstairs to the office, little Kelly was bouncing along in pink & black Converse. We were all excited about how long her hair had gotten and how she makes sure to brush it well every day. On their way downstairs, their eyes were red, and they were crying, tense, and not speaking. They just received a call, about five minutes ago, that Kelly's dad, Linda's husband, our friend Byron died. A couple of weeks ago, Linda received a similar call about her mother, who had fallen down stairs, went into a coma, and then passed away the next day. Tomorrow is her wake. Byron was told that he had liver cancer, and only had a year to live. I guess they were very very wrong. Linda was up all night finishing orders for her husband's silkscreening business, and then came here to tie up some loose ends. I told her I'd love to learn to silkscreen, and assist her in that so she doesn't have to take everything on herself. Now what? Now they've walked through that door together, to tell Linda's son, Kelly's brother, our little friend William that his dad won't be coming home. Now, as a family of three, they won't know what to do. I hugged Linda, and told her to please please call if she needs anything. Helpless, in shock, she said that Byron was going to pick up the dog poops and mow the lawn today, and pull weeds in the garden. Those were his jobs. That's what she'll need help with.