You knew.
Somewhere between hospital rooms,
hope,
and impossible days,
you smiled
because you knew.
A little boy
was coming into this world,
and he would carry your name.
I like to think
that brought you peace.
That in the middle
of everything cancer had taken,
it gave something back.
A legacy.
Two months later,
Theo was born.
You weren’t here
to hold him,
to hear his first cry,
or watch him learn
to say his first words.
But you already knew
he was coming.
You already knew
your name
would keep living.
Now I hear it every day.
“Theo.”
Called through the house.
Laughed across the yard.
Whispered when he’s asleep.
Each time,
it’s a reminder
that love is stronger than endings.
One day,
I’ll tell him about you.
About the cousin
who spent eight and a half years
teaching us what courage looked like.
About the man
who traveled,
loved fiercely,
made friends everywhere,
and somehow
kept smiling.
I’ll tell him
that you knew
he would carry your name.
And I hope
that wherever you are,
you know this too—
You’re still part of our family.
Not only in our memories.
But in the little boy
who carries your name
into every tomorrow.
Your story didn’t end
on February 8, 2020.
A part of it
was born again
on April 9, 2020,
when Theo opened his eyes
to a world
that would always remember you.
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