As readers likely know, my parents were killed in a car accident on April 11. Though details of that terrible Wed. afternoon are now fuzzy, the phone call in which my sister told me the heartbreaking news is clear. “Michelle, they both did” – her response when I asked, after a moment of confusion, if our dad had died – are words that will stay with me forever. And I’ll also never forget telling the girls and the four of us standing downstairs in a group hug, all sobbing and desperately clinging to one another.

(In an alternate universe, I would be sharing photos from the girls singing at the Giants game, which is what they were doing on the afternoon their grandparents died. But instead, this.)

Starting from those very early, very awful days, there have been two things that have provided me and my sister with comfort: the fact that our parents, who were very vocal about their desire to never be apart, are still together; and the fact that they never had to experience the unthinkable pain of losing one another.

But, still, the pain far outweighs any bit of comfort – and my family and I are now forced to deal with a traumatic, double loss that is so awful there are no words to describe it. (The lyrics of the Hamilton song “It’s Quiet Uptown” get it so right: “There are moments that the words don’t reach/There is suffering too terrible to name.”) And we find ourselves forced to learn to “live with the unimaginable” (again quoting Hamilton).

When we started this blog almost 12 years ago, we did so solely for our family – and mostly for both sets of grandparents. My parents were faithful readers to the end; despite our also sharing photos and stories via text or Facebook, they still routinely visited this site and often asked for updates if I hadn’t posted for a while. And they loved our photos – in fact, the last thing my mom ever told me was that she had just changed her screensaver to one of the pictures of Zoe and Avery in Washington. Typical Grandma: thinking of her girls.

I haven’t taken any photos since April 11. I have no desire to, and it doesn’t seem right to take any. It’s also terribly painful for me to write here, knowing my parents are gone and can never read this blog – and I’m honestly not sure when, if ever, I will post again.

For now, then, thank you for your readership and for watching our girls grow over the years. And, more importantly, thank you for your love and support.

-M