You are alive in my mind, Zachary. I see your pulse, keeping pace in your tiny wrist. I watch you find me with your innocent searching eyes. I kiss your forehead and trace your eyebrows with my thumb. Your fingers close tightly on mine. I don't even try to resist kissing you over and over again. Your eyes flutter and shut, as you drift off to sleep in the warmth and safety of my arms.
The days and moments we shared together, my son, are always on my mind. I still don't understand how it is that you are not alive. How it is that two weeks was supposed to be enough.
I think of you, of what you mean to me, and I wonder how anything will ever really matter to me again.