I know they say that time heals and makes it better, but somehow the more days between the last day my son was with me and the days that he's now gone only make me miss him more and more and more. My poor son, you carried all of my hopes and dreams, perhaps it was just too much for you. I can only hope that the pain I feel today and will feel everyday without you is somehow pain that you were spared. I loved you the minute I found out you were inside of me and I will continue to love you everyday that you are not.
The Urn
We looked forward to
Your laughter
Your cries
The color of your eyes
Today we are left with
The urn on our dresser
We had hopes
We had dreams
We were happy, so it seems
Now we are left with
The urn on our dresser
We miss you
We love you
We wish you were here
Instead of the urn on our dresser
by Jeanna James Anzalone
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