This morning, I heard your laugh.
Six and a half months later and the Alex and Ani website still has the matching Leukemia bracelets I was going to buy us in my shopping cart. I can’t bring myself to take them out.
I won’t get to see you Sunday, not even your gravesite. Staten Island is a ways away and your name isn’t even on dad’s stone yet. The flowers I brought you for your birthday are probably dead by now and, odds are, you’re still wondering why I didn’t just opt for fake ones.
“Duh,” you’d say if you were here. But you’re not.
This is the first Mother’s Day without you, and it’ll likely be the hardest, though, your first birthday was a surprising breeze. That’s just because you made sure all of your biggest fans packed out a pub in your honor — toasting to life, love and what it…
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