There was that time in Scotland when I was eleven. You and Aunt Cathy were trying to get something from a high shelf. You weren’t having much luck, you laughed your butts off the whole time, stumbling and feigning falls. Your bright idea was to have me climb on your back and stand up to reach what you needed. We laughed so hard that I... fell to the floor. We howled with laughter. Every time you laughed, mom, everyone laughed. It was infectious.
It was a hearty, from your core kind of laugh. It always brought tears to your eyes. You cried laughing. "The best way to shed tears," you'd said.
They say laughter is the best medicine, but unfortunately it isn't a cure.
You died two years ago, mom. Two years! I miss you so much. I will always remember your laugh. The memory of it warms me. It lets me know that you’re never far away.