Looking deep into these eyes today … remembering what he looked like – one small detail at a time.
I know all mothers say that their kids are beautiful … but dang … what a handsome kid he was/is. What I remember the most is the way his hair and head felt under my hand. I used to run my hand from his forehead to the back of his head all the time. His hair was smooth and his head perfectly round. And those eyes … doe like. Always soft.
These pictures almost seem like someone else’s. Like I’m staring at someone else’s child. The harsh reality on how quickly life changes. And proof that healing is possible.