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She does not want to hear their memories, their stories, their condolences. She does not want to hear the sorrow leaking from their voices, as it had, again and again, at the funeral. He is her baby, her child, her loss to grieve. With every mourner’s expression of sympathy, every recollection of his thirtysix days of life, she feels they steal a little part of Danny away from her.
Grief, she is learning, is love’s echo: it is not possible to have one without the other.
