Emilia awoke to find herself in a scary darkened room unknown to her in any way. She felt the frigid air on her skin, even with a ragged patch blanket placed over her goosebumps formed on her skinny arms, as she lay on what she assumed was a bed. In actuality, it was a wireframe with a cloth mattress and no padding. There was a distinctive sway in the part where her back lay as the cloth had formed to a much more massive frame in the past. She closed her eyes then quickly opened them, hoping to realize some sense of security reminiscent of home. Sadly, her reality had drastically changed, and tears welled in her sweet innocent eyes.

She noticed she was still wearing her clothes; even her overcoat remained donned to her little body, as she lay under the barely-there blanket. She reached into her pocket and could feel the soft, plush yarn of her warm red hat. She grasped it, squeezing tightly, holding onto it, hoping it could place her back in her grandmother’s kitchen. She went to her memory and could almost feel the warmth of the hearth. The smells, the singing of her grandfather and the joyous holiday traditions of a prayerful Thanksgiving followed by feasting and then family snuggle time, as her “Yanni” called it. She was feeling safe in this memory as it lulled her to sleep once again.

The news repeated inundated with the story of the young couple tragically lost on their way home Thanksgiving weekend. The community describes them as a loving couple involved in their church family and community. The saddest part of their story is the fact that the beautiful little girl is missing from the scene. A massive search ensued to find little Emilia. Emilia’s grandmother, Caitlyn Schafer, spearheaded the efforts as she had lost her only daughter and dear son-in-law, as well as her precious little Emilia.

Emilia called her grandmother by a name Caitlyn had chosen for herself. She was a young grandmother and hence chose a name close in sound to traditions and yet one that would separate her from the ageism of the title “grandmother.” Although Caitlyn was Irish and German by her lineage, she chose a proud African name “Ayanna,” meaning beautiful flower. She wanted this name, as it was bold and brilliant. The nickname became a habit for close family and friends.

Ayanna was one to spend her time in her exquisite garden of whimsical color and lively plants that seem to dance around her. No matter the weather, Ayanna, as she was now fondly addressed, would tend to her botanical oasis with her over-sized floppy hat and long burlap colored apron. Emilia loved her Yanni, which is how she ended up shortening her grandmother’s name.

At first, Ayanna worked tirelessly to get her baby granddaughter to call her the name correctly. After considerable frustration, Caitlyn found the meaning of “Yanni” to be “God Is Gracious.” After a brief time, Ayanna settled for her sweet Emilia calling her “Yanni,” but if you wanted to remain in one piece all others referred to this strong-willed grandmother as “Ayanna” or “beautiful flower.” Only her Emilia could call her “Yanni,” and for some simple reason, it sounded like God’s Grace when it came from her sweet lips.

If someone slipped the word “grandmother,” she would assume they were not speaking to her and just kept involved in her business. Her middle-aged and foremost admiring husband, Ralph, appreciated her spirit in this matter and also respected his bride and so he called her as such. You could be walking past their beautiful Victorian home with lattices placed strategically around the garden with a mix of gorgeous flower’s growing abundantly beyond the white picket fence.

The home was medium in size, nothing too extravagant and yet welcoming beyond measure. Often you could hear Ralph whistling as he scurried after his bride of twenty-five years and singing, “My Ayanna you are my sunshine, you’ll never go far from me, you are the rainbow and my smile, please don’t take my Ayanna from me.” They were connected at the hip and always found together. Married now for a lifetime and of course, much pain came in those years after the accident. After losing so much they felt a need to stay close, wherever you found one, the other was never far.