Last night was the first time in a long while that I cried over the loss of my son. Maybe it was the full moons pull that made me more emotionally sensitive. Maybe my tears were triggered by the sad movie I’d watched. Maybe I was just sad. I haven’t had a good cry in a while.
It feels good to cry. It feels good to laugh. I do both when I think of Ian. Ian was a hoot. He made everybody laugh with his storytelling and his jokes. He was a big loveable guy. His gift of the gab, his quirky grin, the way he embraced life, was infectious. You couldn’t help love him back.
I’ve cried and cried over our tremendous loss, at the senseless end to a young man’s dream, his soul – my little man who grew up to touch many in his short time on earth.
I know it’s not just me who feels this, who remembers his charismatic charm. But I feel the touch of his absence every single day.