Seven

It's been seven years to the day. The memory of that morning is etched in my mind with a clarity that time has not dulled. I remember the sun filtering through the blinds, a day that promised normalcy, until my phone rang. It was your mom, her voice quivering, delivering the news that shattered my world: "Stevie's gone."

The words echoed in my head, refusing to make sense. I felt my chest sink to my gut, a physical manifestation of the void your departure left. In that moment, the world stopped, and I was enveloped in a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of the phone clattering to the floor as I ran out the door.

Driven by a desperate, irrational hope, I thought if I kept running, maybe, just maybe, I could reverse the irreversible. I imagined myself like the Flash, building enough momentum to travel back in time, to rewrite your story, to bring you back. But reality is not a comic book, and when I saw your mother's eyes, I knew it was too late.

Your funeral was a blur. I stood there, numb, as we laid you to rest in that tiny casket. "Where's our God now?" I wondered, staring at the small mound of earth that now held a part of my soul. In the days that followed, I told your mom we'd be okay, that we'd stay strong. But I was a liar, for nothing was okay.

You were the bond that held me and your mom together, and with you gone, that bond frayed and eventually broke. Your mom, consumed by grief and anger, blamed me. Her words, "It's all your fault," echoed in my mind day and night, a constant reminder of my perceived failure.

I wanted to be strong for her, for you, but the weight of your absence and her blame was too much to bear. I'm sorry, Stevie. I'm sorry I wasn't there to save you, to prevent this tragedy. I've lived with this guilt, this unbearable weight, for seven years.

I never meant to take our firstborn son away. I never intended to cause so much pain. But intentions mean little in the face of such loss. It's been an eternity without you, yet it's only been seven years since we buried you. And each day, I live with the hope that somehow, in some way, you know how deeply you are missed and loved.

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