Tonight is the night my little girl died. Soon we’ll be on the hour, and then it will have been six years, yet sometimes it feels like it has only just happened. If I concentrate I can still see her, and smell her, and hear her voice. But I can’t hold her. How I wish that I could hold her again.
I don’t know why I’m writing this, for it seems that there aren’t any words or tears left. I guess I worry that somehow she’ll think I’ve forgotten her.
I remember you every day, Caroline. We all do, and we miss you so.
