The pile-up of cars outside your house.

They keep looking through old photos of Luke. If I were of this family, what would sadden me is the absence of more photos in the future. No new memories, and the ones there are are of times that he would have loved, times where his presence would have made it a little more special.

Of course, if he were alive it’d just be another day with him. Knowing that something is not where it should be is the worst.

Everyone over here goes into the valleys of crying, sobbing, weeping, then they come out. It’s exhausting just watching, but all the friends they have, all the love in this house, all the God that is here.

I feel the sadness, even from not ever knowing him. To watch people go through this,

I cannot imagine the sadness of a holocaust.

The other day I became very worried about my future and my death, and that the choice I had made by getting a motorcycle had signed my death warrant. And maybe it has, but with a kid this young dying, I become very thankful for the life and longevity I’ve already been blessed to have, and all the number of days left before It’s Time.

We are all where we are supposed to be at all times, and for Luke, he is too. The only thing really missing are the pictures. That’s why we mourn.