Six months after my daughter died, I forced myself to visit the winter festival she loved. I told myself I was strong enough. Then I heard a little girl begging for a pink balloon — and there was my daughter!
When the man holding her hand turned, everything shattered.
My daughter died six months ago.
Six months of sleepless nights, of staring at her tiny room, of clutching her blanket and feeling the weight of silence pressing down on my chest like something I could almost touch.
They said it was pneumonia. She’d had a cough for days, then suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
The doctors tried everything, but they couldn’t save her.
I hadn’t left the house much during those months. Hadn’t dared imagine a world without her little voice echoing in every corner of my life.
But today was different.
Today, I found myself at the winter festival we used to go to together.
I know what you’re thinking.
Why would I do that to myself?
I asked myself the same question as I drove there.
But Maddie had loved this festival. She’d loved the pink balloons, the cotton candy, and the live music that drifted through the cold air.
I thought maybe seeing it again, touching a memory of her, could ease the ache just a little.
Or maybe I was just desperate enough to try anything.
I walked slowly through the crowd, wrapped tight in my coat. My eyes kept scanning every small hand I passed, every excited child, every laugh I hadn’t heard in months.
And then my heart nearly stopped.
Ahead of me, weaving through a cluster of families near the balloon stand, I saw a small figure walking hand in hand with a tall man dressed in a ridiculous chicken costume.
The figure was tiny, swaying slightly with every step in that particular way small children do when they’re excited about something.
It was so familiar, I thought I might pass out right there in the middle of the festival.
My mind screamed at me immediately.
It’s a hallucination. It can’t be her. You’re seeing things because you want to see her so badly.
But then I heard her voice — sweet, small, and unmistakably Maddie’s.
My knees nearly buckled beneath me.
I barely dared to blink in case the vision disappeared. My feet moved forward without conscious thought, carrying me closer.
As I got nearer, I saw something that almost made me scream.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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