LilikoiMoon
Bluelighter
January is a bad month for me. As I type this right now, I'm glancing at my son's photo...a toddler, with light blonde hair, big blue eyes, dressed in his little overalls, blue and gray striped shirt, balancing with his fingertips against a bench, smiling. A moment captured in time, just weeks before his death.
Since his murder, my heart has never been the same, and while I've poured what emotions I can into my surviving children, I still have spells when I feel so empty inside.
We were cheated, robbed, like a thief in the night, that creep stole my most precious child. A toddler, defenseless, beaten to death by a dirty, coward thief. My son was robbed of school, growing up with his siblings, every little life experience from 3 yrs old to 15, he'd be taking his drivers permit test this year, possibly starting high school, yet nothing.
All I have is memories and his precious giggle that plays through my head like a distant melody. I want him to come to me so badly, in my dreams, our sacred place where I can feel his breath against my cheek, feel his little heart as he falls into my lap after play, my fingertips stroking his hair gently and my lips against his tiny forehead, arms wrapped so tight around him, verbal praise for just being him.
I yearn for something...seed of memory, or a dream.
Since his murder, my heart has never been the same, and while I've poured what emotions I can into my surviving children, I still have spells when I feel so empty inside.
We were cheated, robbed, like a thief in the night, that creep stole my most precious child. A toddler, defenseless, beaten to death by a dirty, coward thief. My son was robbed of school, growing up with his siblings, every little life experience from 3 yrs old to 15, he'd be taking his drivers permit test this year, possibly starting high school, yet nothing.
All I have is memories and his precious giggle that plays through my head like a distant melody. I want him to come to me so badly, in my dreams, our sacred place where I can feel his breath against my cheek, feel his little heart as he falls into my lap after play, my fingertips stroking his hair gently and my lips against his tiny forehead, arms wrapped so tight around him, verbal praise for just being him.
I yearn for something...seed of memory, or a dream.

