My loved ones and my friends have all expressed concern. “You need to stop working so much!” they say. I tell them I need the money. And it’s true, I do need the money. But mostly, I need to build a memorial garden, and set up a gravestone, because I need to do something for my daughter.
I didn’t get to do what I was supposed to do for her: give her a life here on Earth, as my daughter, and take care of her. I only get to do things in her memory, to create places where people know that she existed, and was alive, and that she was loved and special, and always will be.
I’m working overtime nearly every day this month for her. Because it’s the only thing I can do, and dammit, I’m going to do it.