I used to say, my son died. Now, I say, he passed away. I used to say, I have two children, then one, then two. Now, three. I used to say, this is fun. There was joy. Then, no more. The times that came, went. I went away when my joy left, that little boy, who became a man. Then, spirit. I thought I knew what love was. Is. I did. Then, I was confused. I lost it in the mire of hell, the Maya that covered the veil of love that I knew when I was knowing you.

You used to hide in clothing racks, I’d say, I’ll spank you, how you scared me that you’d be stolen by a stranger. I couldn’t spank you. Though I pretended to. Then, you grew, and hid from me, in a place I couldn’t see. It was stranger than the stranger. I could not forget it. Or you.

There was something deep inside me, it was only a matter of time till it burst out. Slowly, surely, it was creeping up, bringing the guts of justice with it. My old karma molded new, the likes of losing you. How could you be lost, when I had given you your birth. No. It wasn’t me that held that worth. You were God’s great present into the presence of your being. There’s no foreseeing what that mighty one thought to cause. But I do know it was no mystery that I loved you since I saw you.

There is an attraction and a repulsion. The latter brings the world, the former, Love. I found that both captured hurt, when you left in what some called death, and when you went to where you came from. Heaven-sent, my deep lament. Letting you go to where you belong. While, I, we, stayed here to watch you fly.

Days came, I used to say, I miss you. Then, this hurts too much to say those words. I will hold them deep. I know they’re heard.

We were one. The two of us. You were one. The two of you. We were three. The comicry. The jokes, the laughs, the kitchen counter sitters. You laid there once, studying finals. On your back, your nose in a book. Your wavy hair falling behind. There was trouble abrew in front of you. But no one knew.

The good book says, Rejoice. We did. When you were here. And when you passed, we laughed with tears, and celebrated you. We had to. There was no other way to say it. You were our best. Friend, brother, son. The list goes on. I used to say, here is, My Joy. My baby boy, grown up. Now, I say, there is a place I journey to, where love lives. I live there, too.