Five months ago today, at this time, you were still alive in me. You’re always alive in me, but five months ago, there were still moments where I would feel you move and have hope of meeting you. Five months ago today, at this time, I wasn’t scared yet. I didn’t realize you were in danger. It doesn’t make me feel worse nor does it make me feel better that no one knows what happened to you. By all accounts, you should be here. You’re rare and special. I’m sure that’s why God chose you to come with Him so quickly.
Today, I was holding Lillianne, and we walked past your photo on the wall. She said, “Baby, boy.” I said, “That’s Jude.” She said, “Awe, Jude.” … “Sad Jude.” My darling, are you sad? I hope you’re not. I hope you’re not sad for us or for your sister. You’re a beacon of hope and a continual source of joy and comfort. Because of you, I have a person, a presence in my life that is eternally innocent. In the world we live in, I don’t think you know how rare that is. To have you and the presence of your purity is a constant reminder that I can be a better person, that there’s a reason to be happy and thankful, and that beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder.
Hey, Jude. Thanks to you, I do take sad songs and make them better, and while I’m not always eternally optimistic because I’m not perfect, I can’t possible describe what your life has done to me. You’re in my core, little angel, and I love you. Daddy loves you. Lillianne loves you. You are love, and you are loved. My son.