Posted by Daddy on Dec 12, 2014 at 3:44 pm

Weeble,

I sit here at my desk, having just finished payroll taxes for the month, blowing tears and mucus all over the keyboard, while thinking about Tiggy, He’s a boy I have never met, although you may have. Who here on this side knows the ties binding souls in Heaven? Maybe you two are acquainted because those you left behind have found each other. I’m tethered to several who are, like me, still bound to the old flesh, united in the shared sorrow of the death of a child. The club is monstrous, but the members are precious to me.

Today it’s been four years since Tiggy went home. I know the anguish of his family; I feel it. It throbs into my being and resonates harmonically with the black spot left by your death, intensifying the dull ache into the stabs of terror I felt on the day of your accident. It will never be over, and it’s only the limitations of the human ability to process information that allows any reprieve. Most of the time the memory is pushed aside by more pressing present needs. But often, it surfaces. Sometimes I’m pleased to remember a friendly boy who waves at me while tapping his feet to a Buddy Holly tune, but sometimes I dwell on a different memory: that monster of grief and torture that lives just under the surface. I’m never without hope, but at times I lose sight of it for a while.

Each day we pray that God would say “hi” to you. Today I’m praying that He says “hi” to another boy as well.

I love you,
Daddy