I never anticipated how I would feel watching the students perform at our Black History month celebration. Two children were on stage performing so well and I started wondering about Emily. Would she have been an outgoing performer? Or would she be behind the scenes writing the script. Would her father’s Brazilian blood had made her one of the graceful dancers performing? Or would she have been the shy observer, cheering on her classmates? I will never know. And it broke my heart. I had to hurry out of the program and cry in my classroom. Why were our babies taken too soon? Before we knew about them, before we could have pictures and memories of how they were? It is haunting me now and I am left wondering about her with my broken heart and my beautiful little girl in her heart shaped urn on the family heirloom hutch next to the framed photos of my mom and grandmom’s flowers from their funeral.