I was in your room, doing my art. I looked at the door and got up and walked over to it. Under the shirts, and scarves, are the pants you wore on that last day. They still had the belt in the loops. I sobbed, as I grabbed them and held them to me. They still smell like you, and it is profoundly heartbreaking to smell the "you" that is forever gone. I miss you, my son. I dont want this life without you. I know things can never be as they were, but I still pray that this is all a mistake, or a dream, and I will wake up. I plead with the universe, everyday. In soft whispers, I repeat over and over, "please....please..." It is my mantra. I love you, my brown eyed boy....for eternity. -Mama

I make the brass bowl sing three times every morning before I walk out the door. I hit it three times, and blow you a kiss and tell your picture that I love you. I have to get the door shut before the last vibration disappears. Its a morning ritual...I miss you so much, my son. Its unbearable...