The pain of losing a loved one tends to linger on, surging and receding in cycles, as we try to move on. Particularly acute is the loss of a child. This poem, its short lines and incoherence are the reality in my mind when remember my son Michael the Hardbody. We enjoyed him for nine months as he struggled to live, to be with us. Some people do anything to forget; not me. I remember him everyday, and I love him still. His passing on hurts me everyday, as it should: but the memories of his struggle make me strong, make me value life and experience its richness.

Little beloved,
Not here with me.
Alone and lonely.
Much gloom ahead.
And Mist..
And sadness.
Cuddly cuteness,
sorely missed.

Tough as nails.
Little hardbody!
Twelve round baby,
earned your names.
Nine month
miracle spree
ends suddenly.
Sneaky death.
Darkness and silence,
painful and brief.
Then grief.
Smothered innocence
Mostly manageable,
Lifes chancy basket.
Little casket?

Keep a seat
for pa.
Greet grandpa
when you meet.
Have fun,
Keep strong.
So long
Little one.

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