Each year, my son planted sunflowers in memory of his twin sister who passed away—then one morning, we discovered them all cut down, with a white box left behind.

Someone had tried to use Patrick’s guilt against him. Someone had cut down the one place where my son still felt close to his sister.

But as the weeks passed, tiny green shoots started pushing through the soil again.

Fragile at first.

Then stronger.

Patrick checked them every morning.

He no longer spoke to them with that same desperate ache in his voice.continue reading …