Three

Owen, shortly after you died and were born, a colleague of your father's sent us a wind chime. It has an angel on the top and a pendant with your name and birthday engraved on it.

When looking for a place to hang the wind chime, we discovered a nail sticking out of an enormous maple tree in our backyard. We hadn't put the nail there and had never noticed it before. We hung the wind chime from that nail and in the years since I have come to think of that as your tree. When I look up from the kitchen sink, I can see your tree. As I open and close the blinds in my bedroom each day, your tree is both first thing I see in the morning on waking and the last at night before sleeping.

Yesterday, one large leafy green sprout appeared at the bottom of that tree. This morning when I opened the blinds, I discovered it had blossomed into the most incredible purple flower.

Happy Birthday little man, you are never forgotten.

Rain

After over a week of gorgeous sunny summer days, I woke up this morning to a dull gray rain. Finally, it feels as if the world mourns with me, and for that I am thankful. Mother Nature and I, we have not forgotten. We still grieve the loss of a tiny boy with wavy brown hair and big feet.

Tomorrow it will be three years. Still I say your name. Owen, my Owen. I carry you with me.