On September 14, 2002, very dear friends of ours lost their youngest son in a canoeing accident. He was four years old and a sunny, happy kid. He loved "screaming yellow" and "screaming orange" of all the colors and that's how he lived - at full speed and full volume. His parents lives are less colorful and bright now and his two older brothers have learned about loss and grief far younger than anyone should ever have to.
It's a beautiful sunny day here today, the flowers he helped me plant in the garden are blooming, and I'm going to spend the afternoon outside in the sun remembering a very special little boy.