He wasn't the Savior, but he saved me in many ways.
He helped me be better, smarter, kinder, bigger.
He made me laugh at myself, and feel and love more.
He was tall and gracious; he hugged people and cared.
He had my hair and my eyes and my curiosity, but he was better than me.
He sang his own unique song. His own voice.
I miss that sound now...long for it. Miss his face at Christmas.
Miss him always everywhere.
Time is measured differently now--before death---after death.
He is alive but I can't see him. Can't hold him. I dream him.
Like Mary, delighted at his birth and crushed at his death.
My beautiful boy.
Awaiting a new birth.