I am so sorry.
The tears are red hot.
The anger is a white light.
The hollowness echoes deep.
I cannot sleep well or eat enough or think straight anymore.
When we do, we feel sick.
When we do, we cannot get out of bed.
When we do, we try to answer for ourselves, what know we cannot.
I am so sorry.
Some people will try to erase the good. The joy. The laughter. That was within you. They will try to make your memory something that wasn’t true.
We will tell your story.
We will remind them of how stoic you were. How being the baby boy was truly your identity to all of us, in the best way.
Our baby had his own baby.
She is beautiful.
She is our family, because of you.
We will do whatever it takes to make sure she knows your goodness and love.
She is your legacy.
I am so sorry.
Darkness has a way of filling space it’s not truly meant for. Leaving out any chance the light can find a home.
Darkness has stripped you from us.
And yet, light remains.
It may be faint at the moment. But it’s here. In our hearts. In your siblings. Your nieces and nephews. They said this tragedy brought us all closer to God. We don’t know how it couldn’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that we are angry. We are pleading for justice. For change. For answers.
You were one of the first to make me “Ms. Chloe” all those years ago. I thank you for that honor. And I’m so sorry that wasn’t enough to protect you from this world. I truly don’t even have the words to express how broken we all are without you here. So I’ll stop…
Until we meet again, sweet baby boy.
