The stars pricked holes in the darkness and I wished I could live under them. Warm air wrapped me up and I was home. I stood there a moment thinking of him and what he would have been like. His soft fuzzy hair on my fingertips, a sweet little face and gummy grin, those tiny hands holding tightly to mine. But those are memories that never were. Birthdays that never came to pass and a pain that cuts so deep there is no way it could ever heal. So when someone asks me why I feel so strongly about always choosing life, my response is always… because I’ve already experienced death.