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I talked to him about my memories of him, the fun we had, the earliest memories of him lying with me while mother worked the garden. Was that a memory...or me remembering what mother and father told me in stories? It didn’t matter, the words weren’t going anywhere, they weren’t intended for an answer or response, they were merely filling the air, a vain attempt at connecting us one last time.Father found me like this. He insisted that he had been calling for me for an hour. I’m sure he was if he. She was trying to think what she was gonna do when she suddenly had an idea. "In theory I could breast feed Ben myself" she thought, "after all I've always had large breasts and since I saw Ben I've been having symptoms of a sympathetic pregnancy, including lactating nipples"She thought about it a little more and decided that yes, she would do it. After all Libby and her were family, so her breast milk would be just as good for Ben as Libby's. She went into the bedroom, leaving the door just. More

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