Silently, slowly, carefully I walk down the hill to the graveyard. Ice crystals on frozen ground crunch beneath my boots, cold air bites at exposed skin.
The first time I walked here was last summer. It was green, and warm, and I walked behind my son's coffin.
I light a candle and place it on his grave. As darkness falls, it shines brightly.
Today is six months to the day since the last time I saw my 29 year old son in this life.
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- the blogpost I wrote about my son's death.
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3 comments:
(tears) It's hard to not be affected by the sadness and enormity of this for you.
I lost my daughter (she was just barely 31)5 years ago this month. I felt like I was walking with you through the cold.
A tender and sweet lad he must have been! Your writing has touched my heart.
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