When you were in fourth grade, knowing nothing of hate,
we sat in the warm Florida sun next to each other
on one of the benches of our picnic table.
Through worried lines older than your years, you asked,
"Mommy, when are you going to die?" I smiled at your
sweet face and apprehensive eyes, "Probably not for a long,
long time...but really, I don't know when I'm going to die."
In one of the most cherished hugs of my life you wrapped your
nine-year-old arms around me and said "Mommy, when you die
I want to die too, because I never want to live without you."

I reminded you of this moment, my wonderful son now of 27 years,
with a DPT.  And my dear Zoli, how proud I am to know
that one day you will live on gloriously and happily without me!