I sit on the sand and I steel myself as I put the urn down and took the worn, dog-eared journal out of my coat pocket.  I leaf through the whole thing, reading each page and greeting them like old friends.  I feel the tears make tracks on my face as I laugh at some entries and I feel my heart break over and over and over again, seeing her handwriting like this.  As I read her words I can almost hear her voice and feel her hands through my hair.