My 12-year-old daughter donated her hair to a girl with cancer—then we received a call from the principal asking us to come in immediately.

finished, Letty didn’t cry immediately. Instead, she held the paper close to her chest, breathing in slowly. Then she looked up at her mother with a small, uncertain smile.

“He still talks like he’s in the room,” she said softly.

Piper gave a fragile laugh through her tears. “He always did that,” she replied. “Even when he wasn’t supposed to.”

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