It’s nearly Halloween, little sweetheart - which I think is possibly your favorite holiday maybe even rivaling Christmas, because of its inherent drama and fun and dressing up and things.
Your dad has told me such lovely stories about Halloween parties they had for you kids when you were little out at the beautiful sprawling home in Moss Lane, including one where you and all your little buddies were on a hayride and your dad was dressed up like Frankenstein to come popping out of some bushes when the wagon went by. But it took a wrong turn, wound up back at the house for apple bobbing and further festivities and left your dad lurking confused, waiting for a hayride that never arrived for an hour.
One of the most beautiful things about you, my little sweetheart, is how proud you always were of your parents, how very much you loved and admired and wanted to tell people so. And that you had such a treasured, happy childhood.
I think of that and all the wonderful stories you told me, often. And today, too, when I imagine how lovely it would have been to have had a little brood of our own, showering them with love and taking them trick or treating.
I think in another world and time, the one where you are now, closer than I can imagine that is possible. Everything is possible there. And with faith and listening closely to your celestial instruction, I will find you and all of it there.
With all my love forever.
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