Your life was so terribly finite, and my grief it seemed so infinite.
Today, in a place far away, a woman that neither of us has ever met will walk for March for Dimes. And she will do this for the memory of you. She will do this, in the middle of her own heart break, remembering a little boy named Luke, who should be there too.
And at times like this, for all of my words, I cannot say what I really want to say. There simply aren’t words to say to someone like this. Little boy, in a way that I never could, she has made you live, just a bit more fully.
The faith I baptized you in says that in dying we fully live. I made those promises for you, knowing that you would go and meet the God who gave you to me far sooner than I. And a friend I have never met has reminded me once again of the power of ressurection.
Gabe, there’s a little boy with you. His name is Luke, and he should be with his mum, and he isn’t. Go and find him. Tell him that his mum is special and precious beyond anything. And both of you, know this:
You are remembered. Your memories as close as our breath. You have entirely outlived your tiny bodies, and your presence reminds us of the need for mercy and goodness. You are not here, but you are not gone.
All my love,