As I contemplate starting a family of my own, I cannot help but to think about him:
my little man,
Big Bud's first,
our forever angel.
I think about how he would have been an amazing big brother, just like his daddy,
how his heart would be full of endless love, just like his mommy,
and how one smile from his sweet lips could warm his Mamaw's heart.
I think about you, Connor James, nearly every day that I wake with breath in my lungs, something you never got to experience.
I think about you playing with other babies in heaven, all taken by a disease that could have easily been stopped.
I think about you, how perfect you seemed in my arms.
I think about you and cry. I can't help it. Time hasn't healed much.
I wish I could teach you how to play baseball,
to watch your mama help you learn how fun it is to swim,
to hear you giggle when your daddy "gets you."
There are a million things we'll never do, but I remain jealous that you get to grow up with Jesus, yet sad that I didn't get to watch you grow.