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Dear Michael,

December 14, 2010

You would be a toddler right now. Getting into things, testing Mommies patience. Getting into trouble with Daddy. Pulling on the cats tail, I’m sure.

I miss you. It still hurts to think about you, and I never stop thinking of you. You’re like a shadow of a presence in my head/heart all the time.  I miss you. It still hurts.

You would be the light of your grandparents eyes, and probably be sweet as pie when you were with them. I imagine you’d be a terror for me and your Daddy. I wouldn’t care. I’d rather have you giving me gray hair, than miss a single moment. I miss you. It still hurts.

I would hope that I would have loved your temper, your stubborness and learned to work with you on it. I know I loved your twinkling eyes. I miss you. It still hurts.

My arms ache to hold you again. But if I got to hold you, I’d never let go.

I miss you, Michael.

When will it not hurt like this?

 

Love,

Mommie

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