I had a friend/colleague tell me a while back that one question above all others would be most difficult to answer, and that is the question "How many children do you have?" After pondering that question I developed answers for what I thought people should hear. Family, friends, and trusted colleagues were easy since they knew I had two children, one living, and one deceased. Total strangers and peripheral people in my life were easy to deal with as well. They didn't know me, knew nothing of your death, and in my mind at the time, just should hear the answer "one daughter." It was the easy way out of an awkward spot from my perspective.
I went with the "one daughter" response since it was true and didn't seem to dishonor your memory. Well, after some thought and a few times having to answer that question to total strangers, I realized that I was completely dishonoring you and your memory. Giving an answer to make it comfortable for others or just easier for me was a cowards way out. I can tell people my father is dead, grandfather, some great aunts and uncles, and various people who have come and gone in my life, but I felt weird about talking about my son. Why?
Colin, first I will say that I am sorry that I did not acknowledge you early on. It was the wrong thing to do. I hope that you forgive me for my cowardice during those early days/weeks after your death. But, back the the question of "Why?" After a great deal of thought, I was trying to manage other people's grief and not make them feel awkward or sad, and that was/is not the right way to deal with things. Death is a part of life…"no one gets out alive, so enjoy the ride" is a saying that some people use to acknowledge that we all will die someday…even the wee ones like you, and we adults try way too hard to avoid the subject, especially if we think other adults can not deal with it. Well, after facing the harsh reality of your death (not for a few months after actually), I realized that I should celebrate and honor your life and not be afraid to answer the question "How many children do you have?". With pride in my voice I say "two, one living and one deceased." People then have the opportunity to ask about you, and when they do, I am all too happy to share a little something about how special a little boy you are, and that makes me cry tears of joy instead of sorrow.
I love you!
Daddy
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Inadvertent (hopefully) Stupidity
Colin,
I thought I would share some of the profoundly stupid things people have said to try to make me feel better since your death. It helps Daddy to get it out of his system through sarcastic responses to such things (even if most responses stay in my head as not to abuse the person who is probably unintentionally stupid). Here are some of the things I have found that either hurt tremendously or made me wonder if the offending person was raised in a closet.
10. "Everything happens for a reason" (kind of generic, but not the right thing to say at the time)
9. "I know exactly how you feel, I had a parakeet die in my hand many years ago" (seriously...they are $10 at PETCO)
8. Any "at least..." statement (my son is dead...at least...what?)
7. Any form of advice about how to deal with/move on from/get past your death (unless you have been there, well, let's just say silence is golden)
6. "You can always have another child" (thanks for the biology lesson folks, Colin is Colin, not a replaceable part on a car)
5. "You are so strong, I don't know how you get up each day" (ummm...bullet to the brain is not a real alternative, so seems I have to get up whether I like it or not)
4. "Be glad he was so young that you didn't get that attached" (yes, the hits keep getting better...I was attached from day one)
3. "God plucked another rose for his garden" (He got the rose, I got the fertilizer...seems fair...please)
2. "You have changed" tied with "You aren't the same person" (you must have a doctorate in Psychology there Sigmund)
1. Drum role please..."Look at it this way, at least you are saving $1,100 a month" (referring to day care and college expenses...WTF?!?! and this person has children!)
There you have it my dearest son, the top ten stupid things people have uttered when they should learn to change that brain/mouth filter on a regular basis to ensure proper flow and function. I could go on, but I have shared many other ones with you already, and I may need another "top ten" list to channel my hurt, anger, frustration, and devastation in a less destructive manner.
I hope you have the same sarcastic sneer as your Daddy. I imagine that you do.
Love and Miss You,
Daddy
I thought I would share some of the profoundly stupid things people have said to try to make me feel better since your death. It helps Daddy to get it out of his system through sarcastic responses to such things (even if most responses stay in my head as not to abuse the person who is probably unintentionally stupid). Here are some of the things I have found that either hurt tremendously or made me wonder if the offending person was raised in a closet.
10. "Everything happens for a reason" (kind of generic, but not the right thing to say at the time)
9. "I know exactly how you feel, I had a parakeet die in my hand many years ago" (seriously...they are $10 at PETCO)
8. Any "at least..." statement (my son is dead...at least...what?)
7. Any form of advice about how to deal with/move on from/get past your death (unless you have been there, well, let's just say silence is golden)
6. "You can always have another child" (thanks for the biology lesson folks, Colin is Colin, not a replaceable part on a car)
5. "You are so strong, I don't know how you get up each day" (ummm...bullet to the brain is not a real alternative, so seems I have to get up whether I like it or not)
4. "Be glad he was so young that you didn't get that attached" (yes, the hits keep getting better...I was attached from day one)
3. "God plucked another rose for his garden" (He got the rose, I got the fertilizer...seems fair...please)
2. "You have changed" tied with "You aren't the same person" (you must have a doctorate in Psychology there Sigmund)
1. Drum role please..."Look at it this way, at least you are saving $1,100 a month" (referring to day care and college expenses...WTF?!?! and this person has children!)
There you have it my dearest son, the top ten stupid things people have uttered when they should learn to change that brain/mouth filter on a regular basis to ensure proper flow and function. I could go on, but I have shared many other ones with you already, and I may need another "top ten" list to channel my hurt, anger, frustration, and devastation in a less destructive manner.
I hope you have the same sarcastic sneer as your Daddy. I imagine that you do.
Love and Miss You,
Daddy
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Weekend
Colin,
Your Daddy is getting to be an old fart. I know, I know, 41 is not that old, but it is old enough to know better than to try to tackle major projects without taking the proper precautions...let me explain. First, Daddy had about 10,000 pounds of lumber delivered on Saturday. Doesn't sound like a lot really...ummmm...until you move all of the stuff. Thanks to Mr. Philip, it wasn't too bad, but it was still a lot of lumber to haul. So, we get it all around back, and Daddy should have called it a weekend there since he forgot to wear his knee brace and his knee was already in a great deal of pain, but NOOOoooooooo! your silly Daddy decided that he needed to spend all day Sunday building a deck. This would have been a good thing except he forgot to wear his brace AGAIN! By now you are wondering if your Daddy is bright enough to build anything, let alone a big deck (I was wondering too), but it is coming along just fine. When it is done (hopefully next weekend). Daddy is going to take some time and relax out there, stare up at the stars and pick one out just for you. Anyway, just thought you would like to know what was going on at the house.
Hugs and kisses,
Daddy
Your Daddy is getting to be an old fart. I know, I know, 41 is not that old, but it is old enough to know better than to try to tackle major projects without taking the proper precautions...let me explain. First, Daddy had about 10,000 pounds of lumber delivered on Saturday. Doesn't sound like a lot really...ummmm...until you move all of the stuff. Thanks to Mr. Philip, it wasn't too bad, but it was still a lot of lumber to haul. So, we get it all around back, and Daddy should have called it a weekend there since he forgot to wear his knee brace and his knee was already in a great deal of pain, but NOOOoooooooo! your silly Daddy decided that he needed to spend all day Sunday building a deck. This would have been a good thing except he forgot to wear his brace AGAIN! By now you are wondering if your Daddy is bright enough to build anything, let alone a big deck (I was wondering too), but it is coming along just fine. When it is done (hopefully next weekend). Daddy is going to take some time and relax out there, stare up at the stars and pick one out just for you. Anyway, just thought you would like to know what was going on at the house.
Hugs and kisses,
Daddy
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Certificate
Colin,
Usually I talk directly to you, but today I am going to just vent a little and let you know how much some things still hurt. Yesterday, I got home from work, parked the car, grabbed the mail, opened the door and did what I do just about every day. Unfortunately, the mail really sucked yesterday. When I sat down to open some things, I noticed an envelope from the funeral home, and before I even opened it, I knew what it was...your death certificate. I know you died. Mommy knows you died. Ava knows you died. Now it is official according to the state of Maryland, and with the cause of death in nice bold black letters so I can go right back to feeling horrible about you not being alive anymore...Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I hate those damned words, and I hate that all they do is explain what did not happen to cause you to die. Nothing like a conclusion of exclusion to give peace of mind. Your being dead SUCKS! The official cause of your death SUCKS! and at this very moment life and the world really SUCK! I hate having a folded up piece of paper telling me how my son died when I should have my son instead.
Thank you for letting Daddy yell a little and tell you how much I hate the fact that you are not here.
I love you and miss you!
Daddy
Usually I talk directly to you, but today I am going to just vent a little and let you know how much some things still hurt. Yesterday, I got home from work, parked the car, grabbed the mail, opened the door and did what I do just about every day. Unfortunately, the mail really sucked yesterday. When I sat down to open some things, I noticed an envelope from the funeral home, and before I even opened it, I knew what it was...your death certificate. I know you died. Mommy knows you died. Ava knows you died. Now it is official according to the state of Maryland, and with the cause of death in nice bold black letters so I can go right back to feeling horrible about you not being alive anymore...Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I hate those damned words, and I hate that all they do is explain what did not happen to cause you to die. Nothing like a conclusion of exclusion to give peace of mind. Your being dead SUCKS! The official cause of your death SUCKS! and at this very moment life and the world really SUCK! I hate having a folded up piece of paper telling me how my son died when I should have my son instead.
Thank you for letting Daddy yell a little and tell you how much I hate the fact that you are not here.
I love you and miss you!
Daddy
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Your Big Sister
Your big sister is getting bigger all of the time. It is totally amazing to watch her grow and change from a baby, to a toddler, to a little girl, to now, a big girl...at least she sees herself as a big girl. Pretty soon she will be four years old and you would probably have cupcake icing all over you and everything else for her birthday, and we would all love to see the mess you make laughing as you rub icing in your hair, or ears, or on Ava. I can just imagine the trouble she would show you. It makes Daddy cry and smile thinking of those moments. I would have loved to see them and watch you grow right along with Ava. She talks about Mommy and you, and I know that she misses her "baby brother" very much.
Much love today from Daddy, Mommy, and especially Ava!
Much love today from Daddy, Mommy, and especially Ava!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Sharing You
Colin,
Today I am posting a picture of you for the rest of the world to see. I always feel that it helps me remember someone when I can put a face to all the stories I hear about them, so here is some face time for you so the world can see how beautiful a boy you are.
Love,
Daddy
Today I am posting a picture of you for the rest of the world to see. I always feel that it helps me remember someone when I can put a face to all the stories I hear about them, so here is some face time for you so the world can see how beautiful a boy you are.
Love,
Daddy
Monday, June 20, 2011
Selfishness
I have learned that the most selfish emotion out there is grief. I own it, have trouble sharing the depths of it, have trouble dealing with it, and have little to no room for anyone else's. While this is all true, and I do feel very selfish in my grief, it is one of the few things I have of you. My selfishness comes from not wanting to share the scraps of "life" I have associated with you. I know that others have been hurt by my selfishness, and often I do not care. Is this good for me or them?...probably not, but to open up and let some of it go means I have to let even more of you go, and with so little left, I refuse to let any more of you go. Hopefully one day all this grief will turn more positive and become something that I can own...and share. Who knows, but just know that through all of this I have realized that the depths of my grief are only equalled by my love for you...and I feel very selfish in sharing either one of those things right now.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Daddy's Day
Colin,
It is 8:30 on Sunday, June 19, 2011. It is what was supposed to be our first Father's Day. In a way, it is, but not in the way it should have been. I am sitting in your room with only the sounds of my typing and your clock to keep me company. You should be here, sleeping, fussing, or just being alert and cute looking up at me or your Mommy. I wish I could say something profound or even the slightest bit meaningful, but I am not that adept or even all that smart in these matters. You would be 5 1/2 months old about now, rolling over, trying to crawl, maybe even scooting backwards...who knows. All I know is that on certain days...this being one...looking at an urn with your ashes hurts. You were my son, you are my son, and you will always be my son. I just wish that I could look at your tiny little face sleeping as opposed to hearing the sound of my fingers on a keyboard and the clock that never stops reminding me of the time that has passed since you have been gone. Thank you for sharing the 20 minutes to type this on Father's Day. Good night son.
I love you,
Daddy
It is 8:30 on Sunday, June 19, 2011. It is what was supposed to be our first Father's Day. In a way, it is, but not in the way it should have been. I am sitting in your room with only the sounds of my typing and your clock to keep me company. You should be here, sleeping, fussing, or just being alert and cute looking up at me or your Mommy. I wish I could say something profound or even the slightest bit meaningful, but I am not that adept or even all that smart in these matters. You would be 5 1/2 months old about now, rolling over, trying to crawl, maybe even scooting backwards...who knows. All I know is that on certain days...this being one...looking at an urn with your ashes hurts. You were my son, you are my son, and you will always be my son. I just wish that I could look at your tiny little face sleeping as opposed to hearing the sound of my fingers on a keyboard and the clock that never stops reminding me of the time that has passed since you have been gone. Thank you for sharing the 20 minutes to type this on Father's Day. Good night son.
I love you,
Daddy
Saturday, June 18, 2011
I'm Sorry
I am sorry for...
...not being strong enough to save you
...not being as loving as I should
...not being a better father to you and Ava
...not being a better husband to your Mommy
...being very flawed and human
...failing
Good night son. Criss cross apple sauce, hands in my lap and don't move...night night...see you in the morning...I love you!
...not being strong enough to save you
...not being as loving as I should
...not being a better father to you and Ava
...not being a better husband to your Mommy
...being very flawed and human
...failing
Good night son. Criss cross apple sauce, hands in my lap and don't move...night night...see you in the morning...I love you!
Friday, June 17, 2011
June Really Sucks!!!
I have been dreading the month of June since the initial shock of Colin's death wore off. First, there is always the 2nd day of every month that just reminds me that he has been gone another month and is never coming back. I really hate all the "2nds" right now. Next comes my birthday. This year, I could have cared less if it had just come and gone without anyone ever noticing…but, people tend to know when things like that happen since birthdays are supposed to be special and happy. Well, if it were not for Ava wanting to see her daddy open a present, I would have just ignored the day and been far happier to see June 7.
Now comes the impending Father's Day weekend. I am totally torn about this one. Ellen has been really trying hard to make it something special, even in spite of me being anything from ambivalent to outright dickish about it. I am just glad she loves me so much or I would have taken a swift kick to the nether regions by now (Thank you for being patient and loving, honey). I know that Father's Day is more about your children being able to show how much they love you, but there are two things that keep popping in my head about this…first, I do not need validation, I know Ava loves me…second, and most bothersome is the word "children". I should have my children there to celebrate and hold and love. Don't get me wrong, having Ava there and Ellen there to love and be loved back is amazing. What sucks is that I never even got one Father's day with Colin, and that just sucks in ways I can not even come close to explaining, so I won't even try.
There isn't much more to say without just babbling or tearing up and feeling sorry for myself, so I will just end it with this. To all you Dads out their, I hope you have a wonderful Father's Day and remember to hug your children a bit tighter this year when they give you that god-awful tie.
Colin…a note to you. While you are not physically here, you are still with me this Father's Day weekend, and every other day. I love you.
Now comes the impending Father's Day weekend. I am totally torn about this one. Ellen has been really trying hard to make it something special, even in spite of me being anything from ambivalent to outright dickish about it. I am just glad she loves me so much or I would have taken a swift kick to the nether regions by now (Thank you for being patient and loving, honey). I know that Father's Day is more about your children being able to show how much they love you, but there are two things that keep popping in my head about this…first, I do not need validation, I know Ava loves me…second, and most bothersome is the word "children". I should have my children there to celebrate and hold and love. Don't get me wrong, having Ava there and Ellen there to love and be loved back is amazing. What sucks is that I never even got one Father's day with Colin, and that just sucks in ways I can not even come close to explaining, so I won't even try.
There isn't much more to say without just babbling or tearing up and feeling sorry for myself, so I will just end it with this. To all you Dads out their, I hope you have a wonderful Father's Day and remember to hug your children a bit tighter this year when they give you that god-awful tie.
Colin…a note to you. While you are not physically here, you are still with me this Father's Day weekend, and every other day. I love you.
Your Voice
Thoughts that never disappear
Nightmares that creep in
I close my eyes for the night;
and my son speaks to me
Fear and confusion are what I feel
My son is dead
This voice is not real;
but it repeats "Daddy" until I cry
Why do you haunt me son?
Screaming does not work
Alcohol only delays the time
until you speak to me again
You wake me every night
with your sweet and terrifying sound
Confusion and fear now reside
in the depths of my empty soul
Your voice never uttered while alive
now has me teetering on insanity
Your voice that only comes at night
Your voice before the nightmares
Your voice before the tears
Your voice may destroy me…but at least I still have your "voice"
Nightmares that creep in
I close my eyes for the night;
and my son speaks to me
Fear and confusion are what I feel
My son is dead
This voice is not real;
but it repeats "Daddy" until I cry
Why do you haunt me son?
Screaming does not work
Alcohol only delays the time
until you speak to me again
You wake me every night
with your sweet and terrifying sound
Confusion and fear now reside
in the depths of my empty soul
Your voice never uttered while alive
now has me teetering on insanity
Your voice that only comes at night
Your voice before the nightmares
Your voice before the tears
Your voice may destroy me…but at least I still have your "voice"
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Colin's Story
This is a very brief account of events leading up to Colin's life and subsequent death only two months later. Please know that I could write volumes of details, but many of you already know many of the details, and those of you who do not...well, you can always ask if you are curious.
-------------------------------------------------
My wife and I found out that she was pregnant on Mother's day of 2010. We were both very excited and very scared at the same time. The thought of a second child did what I am sure it does to lots of people…makes you wonder about everything…how will my daughter react to a new baby…am I ready for this all over again…well, there goes my sleep…and the list goes on and on. None-the-less, we were still excited. Fast-forward about 4 or 5 months during one of the many, and I mean many, check-ups and sonograms…we find out that our baby may not have a kidney. So we go for more regular check-ups and sonograms and eventually find out that even if our child has only one kidney, he will be fine. Whew! (We later found out he had two healthy kidneys)
Fast-forward again to the day of his birth. It was January 2, 2011 at just past 7 p.m. My wife went into labor just 2 hours before, and hard labor lasted only about 45 minutes. It was a whirlwind. Colin Emanuel Stuart was born that day, a beautiful little boy. Now we had one of each and were very happy to see all the new things a boy would bring. It made a new baby even more fun since we had no idea how to raise a son. We were starting to get the hang of raising a daughter, but a boy would bring new challenges. Now…STOP…WAIT…they rushed Colin to NICU because, as we found out later, the placenta tore, the cord was around his neck, and his birth weight was very low…a mere 4 lbs, 13 oz. NICU was a tough experience to live with, but after only four days, little Colin came home.
At home, Colin was a great baby, and all the fears and trepidation left when the most important thing (at least to me) happened…his big sister loved him immediately. She was so gentle and sweet and always made sure to kiss his little head before naps and bedtime. Other than the normal sleep deprivation and occasionally getting peed on by the little guy, life was great. My wife nursed him and pumped when she had to so I could feed him now and again. After a few weeks, the little guy was over 5 pounds. A few more weeks and he was closer to 7, a month later, he was a healthy and chunky 8 pounds and some change. He started to get those chubby baby cheeks. We were in the clear, and Colin was going to be a normal, healthy boy.
This abbreviated version of the story then changes tone….quickly! My wife took Colin to the doctor the morning of March 1, 2011. He was just going for his check-up and vaccinations. It was routine at this point. They came home, my wife called, and he was grumpy and fussy from the shots. Finally Colin settled down and went to sleep. Not long after, I picked my daughter up from day care and we went home to be a family…just like every other family…just like every other day. Normal things happened, dinner, tubby time for the kids, reading stories to my daughter before bed, etc. Life was blissfully boring. When Colin wouldn't settle down for sleep, I took him downstairs so my wife could get some rest. It was my night for the early shift, and she would take over for the middle of the night feeding. The next night we would switch. Again, it was all normally routine stuff. Colin laid down on my chest that night and we snuggled up together for a few brief moments. He stopped moving, I got up and he fell limp and was no longer breathing. I screamed in a panic for my wife. She called 911, did the CPR, rode in the ambulance to the hospital as I talked to the police and held my daughter tightly. Then I get the call…it was 12:11 in the morning of March 2, 2011…Colin is dead.
In the hours, days, weeks, and now a few months that have followed, I (and my family) have been on an emotional roller coaster. It took 8 weeks for the medical examiner's office to give us an official cause of death. It was ruled SIDS. The news was bittersweet since we now knew that there was nothing we could have done or not have done to save his little life. We were not horrible parents. The fact that he died on my chest that horrible night made me feel like I contributed somehow to his death. Now I could breath again knowing I did not. Life, at least for me, took a turn toward "better" a little after that. There was some peace in knowing that it just happened, he did not suffer, and for all eternity, our Colin would be perfect. Today is May 10, 2011 and I am crying as I write this, but the world should know the all too short life of a truly perfect soul…Colin Emanuel Stuart.
I will end this story with a message of hope. Colin was physically alive for only two months, but if the number of people who attended his funeral mass is any indication, he will live forever in the hearts, minds, and souls of a great many people forever, especially his Daddy, Mommy, and Big Sister!
I love you and miss you, son.
Daddy
-------------------------------------------------
My wife and I found out that she was pregnant on Mother's day of 2010. We were both very excited and very scared at the same time. The thought of a second child did what I am sure it does to lots of people…makes you wonder about everything…how will my daughter react to a new baby…am I ready for this all over again…well, there goes my sleep…and the list goes on and on. None-the-less, we were still excited. Fast-forward about 4 or 5 months during one of the many, and I mean many, check-ups and sonograms…we find out that our baby may not have a kidney. So we go for more regular check-ups and sonograms and eventually find out that even if our child has only one kidney, he will be fine. Whew! (We later found out he had two healthy kidneys)
Fast-forward again to the day of his birth. It was January 2, 2011 at just past 7 p.m. My wife went into labor just 2 hours before, and hard labor lasted only about 45 minutes. It was a whirlwind. Colin Emanuel Stuart was born that day, a beautiful little boy. Now we had one of each and were very happy to see all the new things a boy would bring. It made a new baby even more fun since we had no idea how to raise a son. We were starting to get the hang of raising a daughter, but a boy would bring new challenges. Now…STOP…WAIT…they rushed Colin to NICU because, as we found out later, the placenta tore, the cord was around his neck, and his birth weight was very low…a mere 4 lbs, 13 oz. NICU was a tough experience to live with, but after only four days, little Colin came home.
At home, Colin was a great baby, and all the fears and trepidation left when the most important thing (at least to me) happened…his big sister loved him immediately. She was so gentle and sweet and always made sure to kiss his little head before naps and bedtime. Other than the normal sleep deprivation and occasionally getting peed on by the little guy, life was great. My wife nursed him and pumped when she had to so I could feed him now and again. After a few weeks, the little guy was over 5 pounds. A few more weeks and he was closer to 7, a month later, he was a healthy and chunky 8 pounds and some change. He started to get those chubby baby cheeks. We were in the clear, and Colin was going to be a normal, healthy boy.
This abbreviated version of the story then changes tone….quickly! My wife took Colin to the doctor the morning of March 1, 2011. He was just going for his check-up and vaccinations. It was routine at this point. They came home, my wife called, and he was grumpy and fussy from the shots. Finally Colin settled down and went to sleep. Not long after, I picked my daughter up from day care and we went home to be a family…just like every other family…just like every other day. Normal things happened, dinner, tubby time for the kids, reading stories to my daughter before bed, etc. Life was blissfully boring. When Colin wouldn't settle down for sleep, I took him downstairs so my wife could get some rest. It was my night for the early shift, and she would take over for the middle of the night feeding. The next night we would switch. Again, it was all normally routine stuff. Colin laid down on my chest that night and we snuggled up together for a few brief moments. He stopped moving, I got up and he fell limp and was no longer breathing. I screamed in a panic for my wife. She called 911, did the CPR, rode in the ambulance to the hospital as I talked to the police and held my daughter tightly. Then I get the call…it was 12:11 in the morning of March 2, 2011…Colin is dead.
In the hours, days, weeks, and now a few months that have followed, I (and my family) have been on an emotional roller coaster. It took 8 weeks for the medical examiner's office to give us an official cause of death. It was ruled SIDS. The news was bittersweet since we now knew that there was nothing we could have done or not have done to save his little life. We were not horrible parents. The fact that he died on my chest that horrible night made me feel like I contributed somehow to his death. Now I could breath again knowing I did not. Life, at least for me, took a turn toward "better" a little after that. There was some peace in knowing that it just happened, he did not suffer, and for all eternity, our Colin would be perfect. Today is May 10, 2011 and I am crying as I write this, but the world should know the all too short life of a truly perfect soul…Colin Emanuel Stuart.
I will end this story with a message of hope. Colin was physically alive for only two months, but if the number of people who attended his funeral mass is any indication, he will live forever in the hearts, minds, and souls of a great many people forever, especially his Daddy, Mommy, and Big Sister!
I love you and miss you, son.
Daddy
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