Between Bruises & Blooms

When we found out
we were having a little boy,

we didn’t keep his name a secret.

We brought it to you.

Not because we needed permission,
but because we wanted you
to know.

Theodore Darcy Patrick.

You smiled through a screen
hundreds of miles away.

You called it beautiful.

You told me
you felt honoured
that we had chosen
to carry your name forward.

You didn’t know
how little time was left.

Neither did we.

You talked about Christmas.

About coming west
with Grandma someday.

About finally seeing
the family.

You spoke about tomorrow
like tomorrow was waiting.

And I wish
more than anything,
it had.

Just weeks later,
the world said goodbye to you.

Two months after that,
I held my son
for the very first time.

I whispered,

“Welcome, Theodore Darcy.”

You never got to hold him.

But you knew him
before he took his first breath.

You knew your name
would become part of his story.

You knew
because we told you.

And that matters.

Now every birthday,
every scraped knee,
every laugh,
every milestone,

your name is spoken.

Not only in memory.

In life.

One day,
I’ll show him those messages.

I’ll let him read
the words of the man
whose name he carries.

He’ll see your excitement.

Your kindness.

The way you thanked us
for a gift
you never asked for.

And maybe then
he’ll understand
what I’ve always known—

that names
can become bridges.

Between yesterday
and tomorrow.

Between goodbye
and hello.

Between a cousin
who left this world
far too soon,

and a little boy
who has carried him forward
every single day.

Theodore Darcy.

Not just a name.

A promise.

That you would never
be forgotten.