By Lynda Dolin
Jeelyn, my son, my love, my angel, no words are enough to describe the pain and bitterness that your absence causes me. This is beyond imagination and the emptiness I feel, it’s inexplicable.
I still cannot believe that you’re gone, I do not agree that I won’t see you grow up. I refuse to live with this.
My son, my hero, how do I accept the unthinkable? I miss you so much my child! Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. Each sunrise reminds me of the hope I had seeing you alive, and each sunset makes me realize how you were suffering.
My son, my child, I miss you. My life isn’t the same without you. My smile, my joy, my strength, they are all gone with you. I don’t know what to do or how to move forward. Sometimes, I think I’m losing my mind. I try to smile, I pretend that I’m happy, instead of having to explain my misfortune.
My child, with you I can be honest. The truth is, I’ve been dying slowly since the day I learned of your illness. If I could take all this pain for you, I would have done it willingly. I was the helpless witness of your agony.
My baby boy, you weren’t afraid. Every day, you were in excruciating pain, but you fought that cancer as a soldier. I prayed and begged God to let you live, but my prayers stayed unanswered.
My son, my baby, today you would have been one year old. I wanted to celebrate your birthday, I wanted to see your smile, hold your hand, sing your first Happy Birthday, help you blow out your first candle.
I repudiate the idea that I won’t see you grow your first teeth. I won’t see you take your first steps. I won’t hear you say your first word. I won’t drop you at daycare. I won’t look at your first drawing. I won’t see you start kindergarten. I won’t take part in your karate sessions and your guitar lessons. I won’t assist you in playing football with your dad. I won’t buy you your first car. I won’t attend your graduation ceremony. I won’t see you being accepted to college. I won’t meet your first girlfriend. I won’t advise you on your first job interview. I won’t see you flying in a plane. I won’t walk with you to the aisle on your wedding day. I will never kiss my grandson, your son. You won’t be present on the day of my funeral.
The only thing I witnessed was your suffering. I saw you born, I saw you fight to stay alive. After each surgery you came out stronger. I saw you smiling when I was crying. I watched you take your last breath. I attended your funeral and drove you to the grave.
My son, my love, what do I say to those fools who tell me every day that I am not the first mother to lose a child. That I must move on. I must not be dramatized. I must forget you. What do I say to them?
My son, my treasure, I hope, one day you will forgive me, because I failed to protect you from that disease. I failed to keep you healthy inside of my womb.
My son, my little baby, I would like to see you one last time, hold you in my arms, tell you how much I love you. How much I miss you, my child. You are and you will remain forever the perfect description of love for me. You were the fulfillment of all my dreams. Now, you are my only madness.
Jeelyn, my son, my love, my angel, happy birthday, and rest in peace until we meet again.
Your mom, Lynda
