I run my fingers on the marble, cool in the gentle morning sun.
Just like her, her bright eyes, her blithe laughter, her pure heart…
I fish out those pink envelopes the center has mailed.
I settle with her on the dewy grass, and read every single one of those unnamed letters.
Odes of love and gratitude, from happy strangers she would never meet.
I picture their smiles, I’m so proud.
Of my daughter, an organ donor, gifting lives to many.
I place their appreciation at her grave, she’s still alive, in their souls.
I beam between tears of joy.