I’ve always called it the bewitching hour. That hour before dinner. The hour when everyone melts down from their day. I miss it so much.

Today I write in honor of all moms who have lost their precious children.

It’s school vacation week again, a time of the school season I used to really love because I could just hang out with my daughters. But now I dread it.

It is a natural feeling to want to connect with your loved one after death. There is a need for reassurance that they are o.k. no matter what you may or may not believe.

Now and again you might think “what if” something happened to my child but you quickly dismiss the thought because it is too painful and frightening to imagine; it strikes a nerve so deep that you avoid the subject at all costs.

Often I find myself apologizing for talking about my deceased daughter. I’m so conscious of the discomfort of others that I tend to say “I'm sorry” after I bring my personal heartache into a conversation.