22,000 finger pokes over the past 6 years.
Tonight she’s had enough.
My Dear Sweet Sugar,
I hope you’re dreaming about the best place you could ever imagine.
I hope you’re running, and twirling, and being carefree.
I hope your fingernails are painted with your favorite color.
I hope you’re eating your favorite ice cream, and then having seconds topped with cookies.
Tomorrow, when you wake up, it will still be here.
The lancets, the strips, the sites.
I know, sometimes, you want it all to go away.
Tomorrow, we’ll take off those socks, and face it together.
You’ll never be alone.
I will love you forever.