My angel boy,

I miss you. I love you, always. Today is – or am I supposed to say would be? – your 22nd birthday. I sit here typing this letter to you in the quiet of the morning. Sunshine is coming in through the window of the sitting room and is reflecting off of the shiny blue glaze of your urn sitting on the fireplace mantel. There are birds singing outside happy it’s not raining on this Autumn day. Your brother is at college today but we have plans, as always, to celebrate your birthday this evening when he gets home.

I hope you can hear us sing.

I can’t believe you’ve been gone now for 4 years, 4 months and 14 days. There are times when I still think I need to go check on you in your room or get you ready for bed or that you’ll be coming home from school. There are times when I still think I can hear your laughter as you watch a film on your TV. There are times when I break down crying at the reminders you are not actually here next to me.

But maybe you are, just in a different way.

Twenty-two years ago you made me a mother. What an amazing gift that was. You gave me so many incredible gifts. You taught me life-lessons like no other could. You showered me and your little brother with the purest of love imaginable.

Thank you, Brendan Bjørn.

Thank you for all of it: the joy, the pain, the beautiful moments, the traumatic moments. Thank you for sharing your entire journey with us. Every single day and every single moment of your 17 years, 7 months and 17 days. Thank you.

May you celebrate with the other angels today. Watch over me and Declan as we try to navigate through this often confusing and challenging life without you here. Forgive my brevity of words today, but as you carry half of my heart with you, I hope you’ll understand why words have trouble breaking through the emotions on days such as today. I hope you can simply feel all of the love I continue to carry for you. That will never, ever cease, even when the words fall short.

Happy Heavenly birthday, my precious son.

Your loving mommy. Always.