I know I've already posted today, but I know you'll forgive me. Today was a high grieving day for Samson. Its crazy to me how much that little guy has changed me. I never met him while he was breathing. I never got to hear him vocalize sounds or see his smile. Yet His face has stained my soul. I had to work this morning. The daytime people are always curious about my life. They are usually pretty inquisitive. One lady, who just got her minister's licence, hugged me and told me she was sorry to hear about Samson. She let me talk for a few minutes about the drive to Colorado, the funeral, and burial. People who know about Dylan at work always ask about how he is doing. I tell them, "He's getting bigger by the day." My next thought is always but Samson will never get any bigger. They'll ask how old Dylan is. I tell them and think Samson will always be 4.5 months old. After I picked up Dylan from my M.I.L.'s house (mother-in-law), I checked the mail before going upstairs. There was a letter from my mom. It stated that my Aunt Kendra want us to have a copy of their family photo. This evening Andy and I were watching TV. The characters were at a grave site. Their was a bagpiper and they let off balloons. I gasped. I suddenly wasn't in my living room anymore. I was standing next to a tiny white casket watching a 111 balloons float off into the abyss to the fading strains Amazing Grace... I don't think I'll ever be able to hear THAT song again without thinking, "111 days..."
Here's to you little buddy!