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The saddest Christmas experience I ever had was helping a friend bury her 16-month-old son the day after Christmas. He died on Dec. 22, 1999. I learned about it the next day, late at night, after I finished tucking my youngest daughter, one years old that day, into bed. I went downstairs to check my e-mail, and there it was – he most solemn letter I’ve ever read, from a distraught friend who knew no ...
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