Against all odds, little Beau made it through the nine months. Due to an extremely rare and random genetic condition, the prognosis throughout had been that he would not survive, and he spent his few precious hours curled up on his mum’s chest, feeling the furious beat of her heart.
A little over two hours later, Beau passed peacefully away.
During his short life, he was kissed, stroked, loved and completely wanted.
I have written and rewritten these words, but none seem quite right. Too many tears shed, too many thoughts still racing. The unfairness of the world, the melancholy beauty of his brief existence, the softness of his skin; all words seem hollow and trite when typed as black text on white screen.
To my little nephew, who lived on the first day of spring, no words can do justice. You will never be forgotten.
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang, but a whimper