You've got his heartbeat.

She has his kidney.

The little boy has his eyes.

Each moment behind closed doors, I reflect on him as a person. A walking, breathing, and smiling human being.

We used to take a walk in the park. He held my hand tightly each time as if he would lose me. Embraced me.

I met all three of them and the rest of him was burnt. Churned into whitish-grey fragments of his tall slim form and strong chin. I carry his ashes in a gold pendant that lay closest to my soul.

His eyes now belong to a young boy who was once blind.

Blinking once.

Seeing the world.

Blinking twice.

His kidney rests inside of a girl with type-two diabetes.

Her health, restored.

Her energy recovered.

She sends me sunflowers.

And his heart? His heartbeat resounds in the chest of our child.

Beating once.

Beating twice.

Beating healthily.

I cuddle with him and hold him close. I know you are with me where ever I go. And you are with the young boy as he takes on the world, and the girl as she lives life again. But, I will wait until I can be with you again.

I walked through the park, pendant in hand.