This week, I’ve received a few heavenly DMs, which have been reassurances and comforts that cannot be dismissed as coincidences.
Just as those had, one landed in my lap a while back:
It was a song for Joey. The lyrics describe a little boy being ushered into heaven by the most tender, enveloping embrace, the warmest welcome, and one that, by comparison, makes mine seem “meh,” tepid, blasé.
For a time, I yield my paltry squeeze to The One who wholly enfolds my son—exuberantly spins him around a thousand times, creating an incomprehensibly loving, unabashed, all-consuming embrace like none other, even better than a mom’s. And that’s saying something.
Only the best for my little boy.
Today marks two years since Joey left us.