That Chloe was getting stronger, though not every day was easy.

That Kenneth and I were learning to talk again.

That the purple paint was still terrible.

That I missed her laugh more than anything.

That I was angry about the years she wouldn’t have, and grateful for the years she did.

I wrote until the afternoon light shifted across the floor.

The day of the honor walk would always be the day I lost my daughter.

No secret could change that.