“And I know that we all handle days like this in different ways. Some of us get sad,” he said, looking at me. “Some of us hide from it all,” he added, looking at my dad. Then, he raised his hand. “Some of us get angry. But, no matter how we handle it, we all have something in common.” He paused. “We miss the one we lost too soon. And we wish they were here with us.”
