final moments

I sway slowly…waiting.

A tiny, fur-covered figure–a fraction of what he once was–is swaddled in a newborn’s receiving blanket.

“first moments” the tag on the blanket reads.

the irony burns my eyes and the letters blur together.

small snores escape his parted mouth.

I don’t even notice my face is wet until my brother leans in and touches each cheek with a tissue.

thank you for so many years…

thank you for sticking by me while I labored with Eddie…

thank you for staying by my side while I cramped and miscarried.

thank you…

and then…

nothing.

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