All the loves are here. The talking, the planning, the processing, the quiet certainty of our little family. It's here. And I feel like I should write. I feel the need to make words happen. To put ink on paper and to mine out the meaning from all this mess.
But nothing makes sense. Even with all of us here. Even with a few days and a million, million tears. Nothing makes sense. And I have no truth to offer yet.
But I'm here. And I'll be here. And I love you so.
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