I have been away for a while.
Almost 3 weeks.
I spent those weeks by my 18 year old nephew's bedside.
Holding his hand.
Brushing back his hair.
Calming him down.
Walking with his mom.
Shedding many tears.
I was with him as he died.
I helped plan his funeral.
I was his Godmother.
My nephew fought leukemia. He beat it.
He didn't beat the fungus that attacked his lungs.
Stupid cancer. Stupid fungus.
I think of the things he missed out on.
Reaching the legal drinking age.
College. He had two weeks this past fall.
Marriage.
Kids.
Grandkids.
Life adventures.
Then I think of our miracle.
He's in heaven.
He's looking out for me and mine.
I have a Godson that is a Saint.
With the suffering he endured in his 16 months of hell on earth, I have no doubt where he is.
He is dancing and singing before the Lord with the angels.
Yes, I will continue to cry for my loss.
Some days more than others.
But my loss is his gain.
Now I will take time for miracles of my own.
My kids.
My friends.
My faith.
