We never shut her door.

When Isabella died, my older kids were just 8 and 9—her biggest fans and fiercest protectors. Her death was seismic. It changed everything. But the love never left.

We never shut her door.

The kids would still go in and play sometimes. And sometimes, I’d lie on her bed and breathe in the scent of her pillow until one day, I couldn’t smell her anymore.