My clearest image of Rong-Rong is that of a cheerful, warm baby who was so delighted by her mother’s music – you were playing a Chinese musical instrument at that party you gave to your Chinese class. She had just learned to walk and she has joyfully bouncing up and down to the rhythm. She was probably just a little older than my daughters are now. And I look at my girls and I wonder how is it possible to ever measure a parent’s grief? I will always keep that image of baby Rong-Rong in my heart.