A picture of my mother holding me as a baby, her hair the unforgettable brunette bob with bangs, looking effortlessly beautiful and effortlessly sad.
A post card of St. John’s Harbour which only read in unmistakeable handwriting: I wish you were here.
The last rambling letter I received from my mother after she disappeared.
My wedding guest album, leftover wedding invitations, wedding menus, wedding save the dates.
My childhood diaries.
A note I wrote to myself and stuffed in my pocket during a hike which read: “Later she would think it a very sad thing: the way she caught sight of the sunlight splintering through the trees, and thought of him.”