Sunday, December 31, 2017


Little sweetheart, it’s New Year’s Eve. I’ve come up here to sit on your bed and write this before returning to talk to your mom and dad as we await midnight (I’m not too sure your dad will make it - he’s been on call at the hospital and barely slept in the last 24 hours.) Earlier tonight, I made beef stroganoff and salad and dessert. We walked outside - it’s incredibly warm and lovely - and the sky was amazing.

The moon is full and luminous and so bright it’s lighting the sky almost as if it were daylight. And it - the moon - is somehow magically floating as if it were in front of the clouds themselves. The clouds look as if they are passing behind the moon, not in front. And behind that, the corona itself, the sky is a bright blue. Truly as if it were day. It’s magic and it feels as if you are near, quite near, nearer than readily imaginable. And tonight, as there was also last night, there is a single unseen bird quietly, sweetly singing his song. A nightingale, perhaps?

It’s a warm and unusual and beautiful night. Full of magic and promise as a new year approaches. And I’ve come up to your room to tell you that I love you. That I’m so very grateful to and for you. And to ask you to please help and guide me. Please lead me the way I’m meant to go in these days I’ve left on earth, on these days - of unknown number to me - until I may join you and be with you forever in The Forever. In this year ahead, help me to best honor and follow you, little sweetheart. Help me to be the man you were molding. And take me to you the very moment heaven will allow. With all my love.

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