I have been wanting to come here and write something for my baby but it's been so hard. On March 4th 1981 I gave birth to my beautiful boy who grew into such a handsome Man. A Man with morals and standards, decency and honor. I couldn't be more proud. I have always been so proud.
The loss, the void is there, can't hide from it. Time really doesn't heal. not this kind of pain. It's so hard for me to wake up every morning. But I think about him every second.
I found the new owner to Tony's expedition. I found the truck on the way to work one morning when I was trying a new short cut. Now, needless to say, I take that way to work and come home that way everyday. I pass the house, the expedition is pretty much always there when I pass. I say to myself "there's my baby's truck" everytime I see it. If I could I'd buy it back, fix it up.
March usually starts off the "more depressed months". I struggle everyday but March is when he was born, April is when I lost both my Dad (the 9th) and my son (the 13th).
Tony is Dad's namesake, Antonio. Dad died at 66, also too young. I wish they were both still here.
Ld will be married in May and Tony won't be here. Solange wants me to wear Tony's brown suit jacket. I want to take his hat. I may take both, reserve a seat and place his things on it.
I pray Jehovah give me the strength to go on for the rest. But I'd rather go to sleep and end the pain.
