To my sweet, sweet boy,
It is hard to comprehend that 3 years has passed since you left this place. The events of that morning left such a scar in our hearts that we didn’t think it would ever heal over and there are days, like today, when it feels that way.
Sam and I just came back from New York City with Mary Ann, Zoë and Eleanor and we talked about you a lot. “This is taking for a long time,” when we were waiting for something; a truck filled with golf carts sparked a memory of a Pan Am baseball game where you got to ride the cart and Ellie didn’t (which really ticked her off!!); a 2 hour walking tour which you would have complained about the entire time; but subways, light rail trains, busses, cabs and planes which you would have loved – let alone FAO Shwartz! You continue to be, and will always be a part of the fabric that makes up our everyday. Somehow, as far away as you feel, you remain close and for that, I am grateful.
Today, we are going to spend the day remembering you, and honouring you. Your spirit is strong in this home and in our hearts. We will have pizza and orange Fanta for you today and celebrate the short but full time you spent with us. Your dad and I often wonder how you would have changed, physically, by now. Would you still be a strong swimmer? Would you be a soccer star? All we know for sure is that your spirit shines every single day.
Without your love and guidance, I couldn’t do the work that I do. We have made incredible change in this province and across the country. Your life and spirit are keeping people safe, and continues to care for people the way you always did. Medication safety is a forefront of conversation in health care now, because of you. I would give anything, anything to have you back, but I can’t – so working to ensure the safety of others has to be my focus. It has to be enough.
Andrew, we love you. You will always be my sweet boy, your dad’s little buddy and your sister’s fuzzaboo. Without you, we are incomplete. Stay close and always let us know you are near.
Love,
Mom