February 14th is a day most people associate with love, Valentines Day. Filled with flowers, candy, teddy bears, little red hearts and chocolate. This year, it's a little different for me. I reflect back upon this day in history. In 1946, my grandfather died on February 14th. My father was with him and as a 17 year old boy, had to call his mother and sisters to tell them about the unexpected and fatal heart attack. This year, our second together as a couple without our only child began as a non-descript, uneventful day. No gifts, no candy or little sweet teddy bears; just the two of us.
Around 9:30 the evening of this February 14th, I received a text. My first cousin's daughter had a baby boy. The following morning I received a call. My elderly cousin had died around 9:30 the previous night.
While I grieve the death of my elderly cousin, I rejoice at the birth of the new child. His name is Wyatt, after my son. Life begins again, new, fresh, alive, full of love and hope and living to be had.
Goodbye Old One, Goodbye. Welcome Little Warrior Boy, welcome.
Around 9:30 the evening of this February 14th, I received a text. My first cousin's daughter had a baby boy. The following morning I received a call. My elderly cousin had died around 9:30 the previous night.
While I grieve the death of my elderly cousin, I rejoice at the birth of the new child. His name is Wyatt, after my son. Life begins again, new, fresh, alive, full of love and hope and living to be had.
Goodbye Old One, Goodbye. Welcome Little Warrior Boy, welcome.
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