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.

By late summer, the sunflowers bloomed again.

Not perfect.

Some leaned.

Some grew taller than others.

One opened later than the rest.

But they stood.

And so did Patrick.

That’s when I finally understood something.

Love doesn’t disappear just because someone tries to destroy the place where you keep it.

Grief can be cut down.

Hope can be tricked.

Memories can continue reading …