Dear Molly, I was having the time of my life in the last two months. I went to Japan for the first time, a place that I've been wanting to go since I was 8. I flew to New York for work, on business class for the first time. I saw snow for the first time. I thought I was so blessed to have experienced so many firsts and check items off my bucket list. Until we learned that we are going to lose you anytime. And these things don't matter anymore. How did that happen? How would we know that the last Christmas family party was the last one that got you out of the house, out of the bed? How would I know that the last photo I took with you then was the last time you took it sitting up right? How would I know that the last phone call you made to me was possibly the last time you held the phone yourself? How would we know that your last car ride was in an ambulance and that the last time you got out of the bed we almost lost you? When did we stop listening and talking to...