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We received bad news on this day. You got the message that your mother was terminally ill as soon as we landed back in the states. Of course we got to the hospital as soon as possible, but it was too late. As I am writing this, you're in our room crying. Beating yourself up because you never got to tell her goodbye. You desperately wanted to be there to tell her goodbye. I can hear you. I can hear you through the walls as you sob into our pillows. I can hear you playing her favourite song on repeat.

I want to make this better, but I'm not magic. I can't bring her back... but I can bring her memory to life.

I tried so hard to be quiet. You decided to give me space and sleep on the couch. It made the night a lot more lonelier... but I never told you that. I wish I had.

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