My baby boy,

Ellie is sitting next to me and was going through my old voicemails that I have saved. There’s one from you, five days before everything happened. She sent it to her phone so she could have it. It hurts to hear your voice. It hurts more than seeing videos. I miss that voice.

Daddy had a dream about you last night. From what he told me, I definitely think it was you visiting him. Daddy said it was Easter and he asked you for a hug. He couldn’t see your eyes because you had plastic Easter eggs over them and you weren’t wearing a shirt. Both of those details make me think it was more of a visit than a dream. Easter eggs and no shirt, those things scream “Isaiah”.

I’m trying to begin to get the yard together. Nobody has taken care of the yard in years so it’s a lot more work than I would like. I ordered a new trampoline that’ll be here in a few days, everybody is really excited about that.

I came across this today on a random Facebook post about grief and I think it describes it perfectly:

Grief is love
with nowhere to go.

So it settles in your bones,
wraps around your heart,
and waits.

It lingers in quiet moments.
In old songs.

In places they should still be.
Not to punish you.

Not to break you.

But to remind you —
that love this big
was never meant to disappear.

Grief stays,
not to leave you empty…
but to shape you
into someone softer,
stronger,
more awake to this life.

Grief stays,
because love stays.

And love like that?
Changes everything.

I love you more than anything, my sweet boy. Goodnight and sweet dreams.