I’ve tried to tell this story before. Let me try again. This time with flowers.
My mother died on Mother’s Day. It’s nearly impossible for me to comprehend, because she was my mother. Every store window was crowded with flowers and mother-daughter bullshit, and my to-do list still said pick up flowers after she was dead.
The question of a funeral
Our social worker and child life specialists speak to the patients and parents, informing them of Kristen’s death and offering support. No one...
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