I wrote this little bit two years ago, of which I reminded when it showed up on my Facebook feed this morning. I will say nothing more just now because I know I will want to weep, and the time for weeping has passed. The time to rejoice, and for peace, has come. Rest in peace, my son. God bless your precious soul.
I threw you in the air and caught you. Five times. Ten. Again. Again. You could not walk yet, but you could fly. This was the moment caught in time, and scattered from there to here, from beginning to end, fully formed in every instance. Flying, laughing, eyes bright like silver, wide and deep and glowing and gleaming, like only a baby’s eyes can be. You were within me, then. You came from within your mother, yet somehow ended up in me. Flying together. Again, again. Such love surpasses everything.
I threw you in the air and caught you. Five times. Ten. Again. Again. You could not walk yet, but you could fly. This was the moment caught in time, and scattered from there to here, from beginning to end, fully formed in every instance. Flying, laughing, eyes bright like silver, wide and deep and glowing and gleaming, like only a baby’s eyes can be. You were within me, then. You came from within your mother, yet somehow ended up in me. Flying together. Again, again. Such love surpasses everything.
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