My handsome Boy, and his boy....

RIP my my son, my sun.

Jackie is coming for an overnight on Friday. I pick him up at school, and make sure I have GUMMI BEARS at the ready. Its our routine when I pick him up. Oh Frankie, He is so much like you. He "holds Court" with the kids in class. They all gather around him when he comes in. He is like a magnet. It reminds me of you and the many many times I have seen you in the middle of a group holding court, laughing, telling stories. It is wonderful to see him emulate you, but it hurts too. I love you, my son. 

Pops went to the horse farm last night to do a white noise recording in the barn.  He was with a few people, and asked, "Frankie, are you there?". Twice, he repeated. When they listemed to the recording, after the question was asked, they heard, question. Then, "Dad?" Question, then answer, "Dad?".

I haven't heard it yet, but I will know when I hear it. 

I miss going to the movies with you. Random, I know...but these things pop in my head.....I have had the need to ask you to go to the movies so many times. It will be 2 years, 2 weeks from yesterday. I hate November, I hate November 15. Actually, now, I just hate everyday. Just bideing my time until I die. 

Frankie.
How can it be that two years have passed since your soul left this world?  It seems like yesterday, yet it has been an eternity. Everyday is an agonizing voyage, soothed only by sleep. And even sleep does not come easy. I thought I have had a broken heart before, but no. Those were bruises compared to the pain, real pain that lives in my chest. Ever minute, I say,  "I can't, I cannot DO this..." Yet, somehow, I keep moving, the world keeps spinning, and you are not part of the spin anymore. I try to tell myself that you are safe now, free from any harm. Then, I think, "is he?" How do we know? I dream that you are screaming to me from another dimension. That you are scare, and in pain! And, I keep trudging along in this world, with my head down and my ears closed to the voice that I love so dearly.  I hope that its not true. I hope, also, that there is not just...nothingness. To think that there is nothing, fills me with a morbid desperation. Please let it not be so. Please. I cant bear the thought of never meeting your soul again.
I curse "god". Even though I say there is no god. I curse him with "FUCK YOU'S!!!!!!!!!!!!!". If he was real, I would KILL him....
I know how crazy I must sound. I am.
I live for the day when I can die, and find you again. I love you, my son. Forever and always.

From Jackie and Oma's Art Room!!!!! For Daddy from Jack.

seriously...

Good morning my boy. I think your death is slowly killing me. I am trying, but I think I am losing my footing…

My only son.