I thought I understood every corner of my daughter’s world, especially after losing her. I was wrong, and the truth started with one phone call I nearly ignored.
I wouldn’t wish the pain of burying your own child on anyone.
When Lily d:ied at 13, it didn’t simply leave an empty space in my life — it divided everything into before and after. Before her illness. After her. A part of me disappeared the moment she did.
I left her bedroom untouched.
