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The One Who Left Early

Langdon Clemens, son of Mark Twain

It has been years now and you are still gone, baby boy.

So much about you does not make sense. You can not be so vital and alive and also not with us. You can not be so loving and engaging and also leave us.

You were supposed to grow into a curious teenager, and an energetic young adult, and a thoughtful father, and a wise old man.

Here with us you will remain a small one, fragile and new. You will not face the indignities of aging. You will not know disappointments, or fears, or grief that life can bring.

Your story will stay in the freshness. Your spirit will remain large and strong.

Every day you are gone all over again.

It is not all right here. You are not here. Tomorrow you will still not be here - and all the days after. One thing, though - in our missing, we will remember you - and in that way, your spirit will still be with us.

Rest, little one, no more hard times and upsetting hospitals for you.

Your brightness remains even though we no longer get to have your company.

Every life has its effect.

Yours just had a bigger effect, sooner, than some.

The angels were lonely - took you 'cause they were lonely. We're lonely too, sonny boy.

~Jonathan Young