And now I'm so glad she did. Her handwriting is everywhere, on everything, like a warm blanket in January. Everything about her is written in her beautiful script across my heart, and I am so glad. I still find notes I've never noticed, emails I quickly passed over, little labels I've never seen, and it's like she's with me again. Her life was so beautifully catalogued that even when the memories begin to fade, we run across them again just when we need them. Like she was writing the directions for life, a grand recipe for living.
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