Bittersweet: A Letter to My Child with Wings

Bittersweet | The Fun Part

My sweet baby,

How do I tell him? Do I ever explain that he is only here because you are not? He will surely notice. Even now, every time I look at him I search for you. How much worse will it be when I find myself looking past his eyes, trying to find some small piece of you inside of him to hold onto. I desperately want for you to be him, just you sent back to us. Your first trip to this earth was merely a test run. I want his kicks to be yours. I want to hear the echo of your heartbeat in his. I want his hopes and dreams and future and the very essence of his existence to be yours.

But it is not.

You are mine, and I am yours. And he is mine. He is yours, too. Your little brother. It is the cruel paradox of this world that I cannot have both of you. Yet somehow I do. Carrying the weight of the love my heart holds for you is both exhausting and the only thing that pushes me forward.

So onward I am pushed.

My arms still ache for you. Tears still fall from my eyes with ease. I dream about you; I write about you. In the moments when it is just us, I tell him about you. I tell him you were created with wings. We could not hold onto you, not for long. You had to fly, it is what you were meant for. I did not know it then. They say you were too weak to stay here, but I know the truth. You were stronger than any of us. Oh, but how I tried to keep you here. If love could anchor a soul to this earth you would still be in my arms. Instead, you are everywhere. The sky. The flowers. The summer rain. You are infinite because my love for you is infinite.

If love could anchor a soul to this earth you would still be in my arms | The Fun Part

When he is older we will look for you together. And even though he never met you he will know you. He will remember you. He will love you, as I do.

My sweet baby, I love you.

 

 

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