I'd never attended a funeral, much less been forced to plan one. It didn't seem fair; she was too young to lose her life to such a cruel disease. I hated that there was no cure and that it was such a painful, degrading way to go. By the time she'd left us, she couldn't talk, couldn't control her motor functions, couldn't swallow, and essentially, lived trapped in a body that refused to work.
I'd never be able to say with any certainty just how cognizant she'd been of anything going on around her or if she'd understood when I told her I was pregnant. I knew she'd kept my secret until her dying breath. I'd told her everything I could about James Carpenter: how we'd met, our laughable sexcapade on the beach, all the way to his undying love for Cora. She'd blinked rapidly when I told her abo
