The ladybugs came today.  Our house is covered with hundreds of them.  How fitting that they came on this day… the day before the anniversary of his death.  When our house was so heavy with his absence, he sent them in undeniable abundance to say, “I am here.” They say it’s therapeutic to tell the “death story” of your loved one.  I don’t disagree with this theory.  With the anniversary of Ty’s death tomorrow, I have been reliving his for weeks.  More and more vividly as the days get closer.  It makes me weep beyond control while it simultaneously reminds me how certain I am that I witnessed his spirit being lifted elsewhere with my own eyes, and I saw real peace wash over his.  I have no idea what Heaven is, but I do know with certainty that it is REAL.  I know this, because I saw my beautiful boy go there exactly four years ago. Instead of retelling the story of his death this year, I want to tell you about how he has given the gift of life to one very special person.   I a

To Ty, on your ninth birthday... All day I’ve wondered what you would look like at 9 years old.   How your voice would sound.   All day I have had a weight on my chest greater than most.   I went through the motions like a zombie.      I slept poorly last night.   Every time I woke up throughout the night, I knew it was your birthday and begged to dream of you.   Instead I’m not sure if I really slept or dreamt at all.   I heard Gavin’s giant footsteps early in the morning, and my first thought was how big he is, and how you would be even bigger if you were still here.   What size shoe would you wear, I wonder? The day before, I received a package via priority mail.   It was a wrapped gift just for you – so I placed it next to your picture.   Gavin has been dying to open it, so it was the first thing he asked to do this morning.   It was one of the most special gifts we have ever received – a 3-year sobriety coin that Nadine says you helped her achieve after 30 years of ad