dear little man,

Is it really just four short months since I held you one last time?

Seventeen aching Wednesday mornings?

I'm learning how to live without you; God has carried my heart and I know that He will keep holding us as we continue our little family without you, Gabe.

There's such a big hole without you, though, little man.

Your daddy says all the time that he misses your personality. (You know personalities are kinda a big deal with him.)

Jacob Daniel says often that he wishes you would sit on his lap; he cries a lot for you, now. . . the other night he asked to go see your little resting spot - he stood there and cried into my jeans. I think he wanted to tell you about the fish he caught, but he couldn't, so Cambria let you know, tipping her little face up to the stars: "Jacob caught his first fish, Gabe."

I think about life going on and I cringe because it seems so wrong to be happy without you. It doesn't feel right to have ice cream or go to parks or take the kids to Cubbies and Sparks and not have you. It doesn't feel right to put everybody to bed and not have you still up, fighting sleep and struggling to keep your little eyes open, laughing at your daddy and charming yourself out of bedtime.

But life does go on.

I have a love/hate relationship with that concept.

We have a lot of this life stuff to live before we get to see you, but the real thing is just getting started for you.

I can't see Heaven, buddy.

Is it really fun?

Do you talk to Jesus all the time?

Is it pretty awesome?

I bet you are having a blast.

I bet people get such a kick out of your three dimples.

I bet your Grandpa Jim thinks it's pretty cool that he gets to hold his little namesake more than us. He probably tells you about boats and trucks even more than Jacob would.

You don't have to have us read you Bible stories - you are gonna know the end from the beginning and more than Jacob and Cambria. You'll like that, cuz you were always trying to keep up with them.

You made it buddy. . .

You get to walk with Jesus.

You're good. You're okay. I know you are safe.

I loooooooove you, little man.

Always will.

Love,

Mommy