Dear Precious Ethan,
As summer winds down, my social media feeds are overflowing with images of children embarking on their first day of school. While I scroll through the cheerful posts from other parents, celebrating or shedding tears, I am sharply reminded that this is yet another milestone I won’t get to share with you.
Though I held you in my arms for just 39 fleeting hours, I’ve been your mother for nearly six years. I’ve missed countless “firsts”—your first smile, your first steps, the first time you called me “Mom.” The sweet sound of your voice will never reach my ears, and now I find myself grappling with the reality that you, my dear boy, should be starting this new chapter alongside your peers.
Each day since your departure has been a bittersweet journey, mourning your absence while cherishing the joy your siblings bring. I constantly strive to honor your memory, even as I celebrate their milestones. The grief is a constant companion, sometimes a quiet whisper, and at other times, it overwhelms me, making each breath feel heavy.
This first day of kindergarten feels uniquely poignant. It’s not just about missing a moment; it’s a stark reminder that life continues without you. Other children born the same year are off to school—your friends. They are blissfully unaware of the little boy named Ethan who should have been among them. Mothers will capture precious moments at the bus stop, and while your absence will remain unnoticed in those photos, it feels like a gaping hole in my heart.
When roll call occurs, your name will not be on the list. It won’t be called out in the classroom, and no teacher will know the sweet boy who should have been starting his educational journey this year. The principal, the teachers, and the other families will enter a new academic year without the knowledge that you were ever here. And that truth stings deeply, as I ache for the chance to see you thrive.
I remember receiving parenting magazines and various materials in the mail long after you left this world. They brought me immense sorrow, feeling like a reminder of what I had lost. Yet now, I realize they were a recognition that you should be here, even if only in spirit. Six years later, that acknowledgment has faded, and it is my responsibility as your mother to share your story—a brave little warrior who could have conquered so much if given the chance.
I love you dearly, Ethan. While your classmates embark on their kindergarten adventure next week, I hope you and the other children in Heaven are beginning your own journey, knowing you are forever in my heart.
With all my love,
Mom