I picture her sometimes; walking around outside, happy. She walks under trees, passing through dappled shade and spots of sunshine. She has a faint, content smile; she stops for a moment as a breeze tousles her curls. She closes her eyes. She opens her eyes again, and continues moving through the world, breathing in every moment.

Her death certificate says she died of ischemic bowel and multi-organ failure, but truly, she died of ableism. More to come.