I found that my mom put the photo I gave her, the one where I’m holding Avalon, and we’re both looking at her, in a photo frame in her room. Avalon looks awful by then. Her skin had darkened to brown and the pink flush of her face has turned into the sallow of death. Her jaw hangs loosely, instead of the serene look on her heart-shaped face in the first photo I have. She looks so terribly dead.
And yet my mother thought she was so beautiful she should be framed.
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Nothing, nothing, nothing worse than losing a child. Nothing.