“But the grief still comes in waves sometimes, you know? And anger too. Because even though she couldn’t be who I wanted…who I needed…she was still my mom. And maybe she did the best she could, and I just need to accept that—anyways—what I’m trying to say—is that sometimes when it hurts, when it hurts so bad I feel like I can’t breathe, I send her light.” “You send her…light?” Lincoln asked, clearly confused. I nodded against his neck. “I think of the happiest things I can, and I picture sending them to her, wherever she is. Every time it hurts, I send her light. I tell her that I hope she’s
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