My son’s voice, his spirit, his joy—they can’t be silenced by someone else’s darkness. Evelyn thought she could erase him, force me to “move on.” But now, every time she sees her family’s faces, she’ll remember who she really is. I’ll keep loving Oliver.
I’ll keep him alive in my stories, in my heart, in every breath I take. That’s what mothers do—we protect our children, even when they’re gone. So if you’re reading this, hug your children tonight.
Guard their memories fiercely. And never, ever let anyone—family or not—tell you how to grieve. Because grief isn’t garbage.
It’s love, stretched across eternity. And love, unlike cruelty, never d.i.e.s.
