Eleven

[Mommy]

Dearest Michael,

Today is the 20th of June, a calendar day I will dread for the rest of my life. But today was actually a good day. Dad and I have been on a vacation, one you would love. We were in Napa with the gorgeous vineyards, tree covered hills and delicious wine-tasting experience with fun friends, just your style. I thought of you and saw you everywhere... the cool breeze, the smile on a face, the blue sky, the beautiful terrain. And today we drove to Monterey through the gorgeous, endless rolling hills of Northern California, with its uncluttered landscape, free of bill-boards, Golden Arches and signs of buildings. Earth without its trappings. It was heaven. Clean. Close to nature. Close to God. Close to you.  

The first sight of the ocean was breath-taking both because of its magnificence and because I know I am getting closer to you. We stopped at a restaurant with a long wait and we could have been seated anywhere, but we were led to a table right at the water, as if you planned it and were holding my hand. Thank you. I cried. But then you know that. I want to spend every June somewhere close to the ocean, close to you. 

Eleven years. I remember when you celebrated your eleventh birthday. Did I ever imagine how I could get through eleven years without you? Why would I? Why would you ever leave us? How could you be taken from us? Unanswered questions, all. In your wake you have left your mark on so many, so many loving memories of friendships and shared experiences. You are loved, Michael, and missed by so many. You live on, my darling son, in all things beautiful.

You live in my heart forever. I love you, Michael,

Mommy 

(Because you always affectionately call me Mommy)