He came.

He’s here…

It has been two years…

Now he sits in front of me…

Have these two years been kind to Him? Scarred Him?

I do not notice or am aware…

He’s alive…with me…

A wish, a prayer, a cry. Out to…on so many nights…

Now I hold back my tears, for I cannot believe…

That he sits in front of me…He is here…

He came, he smiled…

He touches my hand…

The sadness has not faded from his eyes yet…

The damage is so evident…

But nothing that cannot heal…

He is a man now with lines on his face…

The blond hairs, once so soft are now parse and dry…

And I cannot lie…I want to cry…

But I will not, for he is here…

And every night of terror that he was dead…

What I had to do so he would live…

To comprehend what we will do for love…

The part of me that died so he would not…

Is all faded into the dark past we both share…

For I no longer care…

He is alive…My son smiled at me…He’s here for me to see…

I will tell his mother; the opening has come…

From whom we do not know…I will bring her here soon…

Please…let us sit here and let her look at me and say…he’s here…our son is alive…he came…Please.

Let our love for him, every tear we cried, the despair we felt would never die, draw him back to this place…once again.

The children we love insanely so, often bring pain that rips our souls…

Yet repaired when we care so hard…that they come home.

If he has gone before we wake…thank you for this moment…for he came.