The laughter still rings through her home, the smell of his room, the trophies displayed on his shelf, the little pieces of paper with friend's numbers scattered in his top drawer. Every word she has ever spoken for the past 21 years plays over and over in her mind. Her dreams stacked in a neat little pile in the corner of her room, for her dreams would be on hold while she lived through the eyes of her son. A knock on the door defined her future. Her life now a manifestation of her past, for her future would repeat every 11th day of the month, a reminder of the dreadful knock on her door. A flag draped coffin her son would arrive on a snowy December day. The tears that fall from a mother's heart, her sorrow, her memories and her love will linger in your soul.
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