I never knew you. I only knew that your mother loved you.
She still does.
Though her body doesn’t want to believe that you’re gone, you are. You’re gone.
You’ve gone away, far far away.
You made your mother fall in love with you, and then you left.
Why? Why did you let her love you so when you were simply passing through?
Why did you have to be so cute?
Why, oh Isa, did you fit so perfectly on her chest? How will she live the rest of her days?
Will all her days be hard? Will her heart ever heal? Will there be a new start? Will she still be strong? Will she ever be the strong one again? Will she still be who she’s been?
Or is she new?
Your life was taken. Is your mother’s life taken, too?
Or is she still alive?
She’s still alive.
I pray for her days. I pray for strength. I pray for hope. I pray for healing. I pray that heartache will bring hearts together. I pray for her.
I love you, Isa. I’m sorry I never held you. Please know I’m not mad at you.
I just wish you knew how beautiful you were. I wish you knew your mom would’ve healed you if she knew you were sick. I wish you love. I wish you were still alive. I wish.