Last month, my 9-year-old nephew, Henry, a twin, was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes.
For almost 14 years, this has been my favorite, and yet most dreaded, month. My mother, Elaine, was a victim of breast cancer, and passed away at the age of 63. She was our tree, and her five children, or her branches, each fell apart when she left us.
My blonde-headed, blue-eyed niece was going to be Oprah Jr., and I decided she'd be the best.