“I remember your bare feet down the hallway…”
My son Johnny had a twin.
“I remember your little laugh
Race cars on the kitchen floor, plastic dinosaurs
I love you to the moon and back.”
His name was Sam. He looked like the complete opposite of Johnny. He looked like (Y/N). Always laughing like her.
“I remember your blue eyes
Looking into mine like we had our own secret club
I remember you dancing before bedtime
Then jumping on me, waking me up.”
He wanted to be tuff, just like me.
Wanted to grease his hair back, have a smoke, do whatever it was I was doing.
“I can still feel you holding my hand, little man”
It was weird not to have him here anymore. I can feel him, but he’s not here.
“And even the moment I knew you fought it hard like an army guy
Remember I leaned in and whispered to you:
“Come on baby with me we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years.”
He was not even four when he died.
“I remember the drive home when the blind hope
Turned to screaming and crying “why?”
Flowers pile up in the worst way, no one knows what to say
About a beautiful boy who died.”
(Y/N) took it badly. She wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t sleep. Even if she did sleep she’d have the nightmares. I cried once. The day it happened. Otherwise I had to keep strong, for (Y/N) and Johnny.
The drive home was hell. Pure hell. (Y/N) just looked out the window, silently crying. And then the sobbing came. And the screaming. I pulled over and just wrapped her in my arms and rocked her back and forth saying nothing. There was nothing to say.
“And it’s about to be Halloween
You could be anything you wanted if you were still here
I remember the last day when I kissed your face
And whispered in your ear:
Come on baby with me we’re gonna fly away from here
Out of this curtained room and this hospital gray will just disappear
Come on baby we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years.”
I hate hospitals. Since Johnny died. I’ve hated them. I hate them even more.
“What if I’m standing in your closet trying to talk to you?
What if I kept the hand-me-downs you won’t grow into?
And what if I really thought some miracle would see us through?
What if the miracle was even getting one moment with you?”
Sometimes I talk to him. Actually all the time. Because I would give anything to have one more minute with him.
He’s never coming back. My Samuel Robert Winston.
“Come on baby with me we’re gonna fly away from here
Come on baby with me we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years.”
It’s hard to comfort your own dying child when you can’t even comfort yourself.
He’s waiting for me I know.
“I remember your bare feet down the hallway
I love you to the moon and back.”
“Hmmm… Merry Christmas.” You mumble.
“I got all of Danny’s presents under the tree.” He says, snuggling down into the bed a little more.
“Did you remember the football?” You ask.
“Yeah, I remembered that. It’s the best gift.” He smiles. “He’ll love it.”
“Yeah…” You mumble.
“Before you fall back asleep, I have a present for you.” He whispers to you.
“Mhmm?”
He leans over you, showing you a black box.
You open it, to see the most beautiful necklace.
“It was my mom’s.” he mutters. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it.”
“Merry Christmas, honey.”
