I was sitting on a striped towel, my well-worn sandals half-buried in the warm, white sand, watching my grandchildren, Lily and Noah, splash in the shallow surf. Their shrieks of laughter were carried on the warm, salty breeze, a perfect, innocent music that mixed with the plaintive cries of gulls and the coconut-and-chemical scent of sunscreen. It was a moment of pure, uncomplicated grace. I remember smiling, a genuine, soul-deep smile, feeling the warmth of the Florida sun on my skin and the simple joy of being a grandmother. It was a fragile, beautiful peace, and it was about to be shattered.