The world tells me that God is in Heaven and that my son is in Hell. On the day of my son's birth I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I loved my son every day of his life, and I will love him ferociously long after I've stopped breathing. I remember holding my son, and looking over at my own mother and saying, "Now I understand why the sun comes up at day and the stars come out at night. The moment the midwife placed him in my arms, I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I remember the morning my son was born as if it was yesterday. And though my heart keeps beating only to keep breaking-I do not question why. I was not able to finish burying him before sundown, and I'm not sure if that affected his fate. I discovered his body alone, I dug his grave alone, I placed him in a hole, and covered him with dirt and rock alone. It is not in the natural order of things.
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