If today we speak at all, I don’t know whether I would hug you first or look at you. I mean really look at you – to know you, to know what you look like, to see the colour of your eyes, the colour of your hair, to see how much you’ve grown. I would tell you how much I've missed you, mom.
As each year passes, I try to imagine what you would look like now. And if today we speak at all, I would see you now for the first time. I would tell you how proud I am to be your son.
I would touch your skin, watch the way you move your hands, and see how your smile lights up your face – your face that I never really got to know.
Your baby face is ingrained in my memory – what would it look like today on your would-be 13th birthday? I can only imagine. I would tell you that I’ve always been with you, mom.
I brought a teddy bear and toy car to your grave, sang you happy birthday and cut a cake for your 1st birthday.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you how much I love you. I would hold you, just like I held you the day that you died. But now, I would stand side by side with you and hold you – because you are 13 now and surely you would be even taller than me.
I wished that my family and friends were more open to celebrating your 2nd birthday.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you how difficult life became after I lost you. How much I missed you and how I wondered if I could go on without you. How sometimes it was so hard to breathe and I thought I just couldn’t do it anymore. I would tell you that I saw the tears you shed for me.
I visited you at the cemetery for your 3rd birthday.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you that the first night at home without you, I felt a tiny little hand hold mine in the middle of night. It felt so real. I would ask if it was you that came to visit me – a little boy who wanted to hold on to his mother one last time. To say a final goodbye. I would tell you that I've been by your side through all the tough times.
I wished that you were here for your 4th birthday.
If today we speak at all, I would say that I am sorry for not visiting you at the cemetery anymore. I used to visit every day, and I promised that I always would, but somewhere along the line, I broke that promise. I would ask you to remember the joy and not just the sorrow.
I miss you and think of you just as much, and I hold you in my heart wherever I go. Please know that I am with you. I know that you are with me, too.
If today we speak at all, I hope that you would forgive me for letting life get in the way.
I sat in church on your 5th birthday. I would tell you that I heard your prayers every night.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you about the photographs I have of you and how grateful I am that people around me were brave enough to take them. I was too lost in grief to have thought of taking pictures myself, but I’m so glad that I have them. I would tell you that I felt your love in every moment we had together.
I watched whales leap through the Pacific Ocean on your 6th birthday.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you about all the people who loved you. I would tell you about the people with whom I shared your pictures, and for whom I am forever grateful that they gave me the space to do so. These people hold a very special place in my heart, and you in theirs. I would share how your stories about me make me smile.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you how my heart dances every time I see a butterfly because it makes me think of you. I see lots of butterflies in July and I’m sure that they are you.
Our bond will live forever, even though we didn’t have much time together.
Some years, your birthday is a blur. I would thank you for doing your best.
If today we speak at all, I would want to hear all about you. Who you are, the things you like and don’t like, the things that make you smile and how life is for you up in the peaceful clouds and the shining stars.
I imagine you growing year by year. I imagine that you live a beautiful life, wherever you are. I would tell you that I'm living a beautiful life from wherever I am.
I saw a beautiful waterfall and rainbow on your 10th birthday.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you how much your little brother and sister love you. They wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for you. I would tell you how I've watched over you and our family.
Nicholas’ firsts, like his first birthday and his first day of school, were bittersweet because I never got to experience those things with you. It got easier with Kiara and with time, we found happiness in it all.
Nicholas has your lips. Kiara has your hands and feet. Both of them have big hearts and I know that you would have, too. I would tell you that I see my siblings, and I love them, too.
Through them, I get to know you a little more. And for that, I am grateful.
I was in Rome on your 11th birthday – a city in a country that I’ve always felt most at home. Thank you for sharing it with me. I would thank you for the special places you visit to think of me.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you how much I would have loved to see you grow. To hear the sounds of your voice. To bring you to school, hang your art on the fridge, have your friends over and see you off on all of your adventures.
I took your brother to soccer practice and your sister to her math tutor on your 12th birthday. I carried you with me.
If today we speak at all, I would tell you that I’ll never forget the way your soft, smooth, thin skin felt. Just like a cold peach. I would tell you that your love has always reached me.
If today we speak at all, I would ask you if you’re with Nonna and Nonno, and Chianti and Ali. I always imagined that Nonno came straight to find you and that you two tirelessly kick around a soccer ball, forever friends. I’m at peace believing that you’re together. I would tell you that I am at peace and surrounded by love.
I am writing you this letter on your 13th birthday.
Today, you would have been a teenager. That’s two whole hands, plus three fingers.
Today, I am honouring you, your memory and your short life that only I truly physically felt, but whose impact is shared now more than ever. I would say thanks for keeping my memory alive.
If today we speak at all, I would thank you for touching my life, and give you all my love. I would share how I see the love and strength you’ve shown.
Until we meet again.
Love,
Mom
