He does not exist anymore, except in my imagination.  Memories arising when I least expect them.  Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of him and I feel such a fondness.  I wish I could spare him the pain I know he’ll experience. But I also know the love he will as well.  The amazing things he’ll see, the adventures he’ll have.

At the same time, I, who has experienced all that he will, I so often forget the lessons.  So I write.  A guide, perhaps, to the future.  To the self that I will one day look back to and nod, knowing.  Smiling.

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