A letter to my son.

Dear Justin,
It has been nearly a month since you transformed yourself out of this sphere we call earth life. Although your transition remains a shock, I am starting to adjust to your reassignment. I can feel you at various places and times, and know you are in a better place to help others, as your tender heart did here. The official documents will show you made the change on Aug. 22, 2017, but we now have substantial evidence it was at 10:31 PM on Aug. 21, 2017. On that night, your great grandparents clock had been ticking for 125 years and suddenly stopped. I tried a variety of things to get it started, but finally gave up. The other night, for no apparent reason, it started to tick again at 10:31 PM, with the chimes ringing on the hour more loudly than ever. That was my sign to not let tears control my life. I will strive to live with faith over fear, and pray you and other guardian angels will assist all in need. Growing up, I seldom told you and your brother I loved you, as it was just not my nature. I hope my actions demonstrated my love and devotion to you. Your brother and I never missed any of your concerts, basketball, soccer, baseball games or practices, and you didn't miss Troy's. I have learned to appreciate your love for all people and animals who you treated with kindness. My vow is to try to be more like you in kindness. I know of no kid, dog or grown up that didn't have an instant liking for you. I am confident your mission on earth was fulfilled and now promoted to a higher level of duties. On the other hand, I can't imagine you; Craig Siciliano and Babe Ruth playing harps, so there must be a baseball game as a break from heavenly duties. As you know, the week before your transition, I felt the presence of my mother who had passed away. It woke me up with the dark feeling of death. She was hurrying about, gathering people for the arrival of a family member. In calling the family they reported being okay, so I discounted the feeling. A week later, on Sept. 21, we now know they were preparing for you. My belief is that God was fully aware of the many years of your pain, and gave you the exit ticket, but you and only you made the final choice. Years of counseling only seem to make you more depressed and we have learned that depression may be the worst disease, with drugs and alcohol being the tools to assist in terminating the suffering. You were going down a sliding cylinder, and although there were moments of joy you grasped on to, years of damage had already been done. I went to the Fort Union baseball park the other day and re-discovered the plaque we put on the clubhouse honoring your 38 year old coach who died on the field. My CPR failed and we couldn't bring him back, and all of us felt that sense of great loss. I wrote the words in memorial to Craig Siciliano, but as I read them this time, the tears rolled down, as then and only then, did I recognize the words of 24 years ago, may have just been written for you in advance. You lived your life exactly as the words describe which I will re-write, but first, know this my son, I have always been proud of you, which will remain forever. Nothing lasts forever, except forever and my love for you. The three amigos we will ever be. "To laugh often and much; to win respect of intelligent people and affection of children. To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. We miss your inspiration and dedication."

Love, Dad