Dear Henry

I am still reeling from Samantha McCarthy's funeral on Tuesday. Mom and I drove to Columbus after work on Monday and got there at two o'clock in the morning. We went to the funeral when we got up and then visited with Nikki and Dan at their home with their family and friends. We got back to DC late Tuesday night. I have a lot to say about that and will this weekend. You could say I have been saving up. What better time to spill it all than your birthday on Sunday.

Here is something I read today which made me feel regret that I didn't think to do this when you died. But who's thinking at that point.

Her mom just asked us to cut some of her hair,” I said. My voice sounded ripped apart, like a shirt collar that has been torn right before a funeral, as a traditional sign of mourning.

Carefully lifting the sheet, Ann cut off some of Tal’s long, earthy-blond curls.

“Is that enough?” I asked.

“It will never be enough,” Ann whispered.

All I have are those teeth of yours that got pulled during one operation or another. Hair would be so much better than teeth which are floating around in some solution in a specimen jar. I know Mom has some of your hair from your first haircut.