He was our firstborn, my “Merry Sunshine.” Waking up to this face was pure pleasure . . . he just oozed charisma with his toothy, juicy grins every morning. I’d shuffle to his crib, half asleep until I’d see that smile . . . then my heart would melt into a puddle and wake me up enough to sing this little ditty:
“Good morning, Merry Sunshine, why did you wake so soon? You scare the little stars away and drive away the moon.”
Then he’d really turn on the charm . . . and coo a little baby tune alone with my yawning vocals.
He’s in a deep sleep now . . . resting in the grave until Jesus comes. And when our Lord blows that huge trumpet, it will be loud enough to wake the dead . . . and that’s exactly what we have been waiting for!
Now that he’s gone, these sweet, baby memories come wafting back over the waves of time and I wipe away a tear . . . and smile in spite of the pain.
How I miss him – the adult and the child. We all miss him in our lives, but we choose to go on and live with his memories in our hearts. It won’t be long, dear son. It won’t be long.
from Shattered by Suicide