Lately I find myself staring at pictures of you - especially the pictures that feature your giant Peanut smile - and I start to question if this is really happening. Is it possible it is all a long, terrible dream? A nightmare?
I look at your face, that smile, that personality and question what kind of world, what kind of reality, would let us have you for such a brief period time, only to steal you away in such a horrific, unexplained way? There is no way this is the life I am actually living.
Maybe if I put on my shiny red shoes, click my heels together 3, 10, 200 times and say a special prayer 10,000 different ways, I'll wake up and have you back. Maybe there is some other ritual, dance, song, chant that I don't know about...one that might bring you back to me. Maybe. Or, not.
Peanut, I know you're gone. I know I'll never hold or smell or touch or hug you again on this earth. I just don't want to believe it's true. It's too hard to face. To comprehend. To process.
I stare at one particular picture of you, and remember every moment, every detail, of the day I took the picture. The joy and overwhelming love. The intense happiness. The sunshine of my Peanut. That is your legacy. I love, love, love you, my baby boy - to the moon and back.