Months After My 4-Year-Old Daughter Died, I Saw a Man in a Chicken Costume – When He Turned, My Blood Went Cold

Six months after my daughter died, I forced myself to visit the winter festival she loved. I told myself I was strong enough. Then I heard a little girl begging for a pink balloon — and there was my daughter!

When the man holding her hand turned, everything shattered.

My daughter died six months ago.

Six months of sleepless nights, of staring at her tiny room, of clutching her blanket and feeling the weight of silence pressing down on my chest like something I could almost touch.

They said it was pneumonia. She’d had a cough for days, then suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

The doctors tried everything, but they couldn’t save her.

I hadn’t left the house much during those months. Hadn’t dared imagine a world without her little voice echoing in every corner of my life.

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