A week ago, my 8-year-old daughter Lily lost her battle with cancer. After her funeral, I came home, drained, only to find a large, circus-like tent in my backyard. It felt like a cruel joke. Trembling, I lifted the tent flap, revealing a blanket that looked just like Lily’s from the hospital. My heart sank.

But then, the bundle moved. Inside was Muffin, Lily’s beloved kitten, with a note in Lily’s messy handwriting: “For Mommy — So you don’t feel alone.” Tears filled my eyes as I realized it was her last gift to me.

My husband joined me, explaining, “She wanted you to have this. She loved it here.” We sat in the tent together, finding a small sense of peace. Lily’s presence lingered, offering comfort through the vibrant colors and soft purrs.

In that moment, I knew Lily’s love would remain with us, a shelter from our grief—reminding us that while she’s gone, her spirit and love endure forever.