I carried you, growing inside me for nine months.

Why are you gone?

In painful love, I gave birth to you.

Why are you gone?

I nursed you for the first year and a half of your life.

Why are you gone?

You were such a beautiful, happy baby.

Why are you gone?

I taught you how to talk, how to read, how to count.

Why are you gone?

I cuddled with you as you lay next to me sleeping.

Why are you gone?

I taught you how to use the bathroom, how to brush your teeth, and how to tie your shoes.

Why are you gone?

I played games with you. Read stories to you.

Why are you gone?

I did your homework with you, practiced your spelling words with you, worked on projects with you.

Why are you gone?

I made sure you learned to swim as a child so you can have fun in the water and be safe.

Why are you gone?

I always made a big deal out of your birthday and gave great gifts.

Why are you gone?

I made sure the holidays were fun and that Christmas was magical.

Why are you gone?

I spoke to you in your love languages.

Why are you gone?

I took you on vacations starting as a child so you could have great experiences.

Why are you gone?

You loved the beach, and I made sure we went there often.

Why are you gone?

We laughed together, ate together, and had fun together.

Why are you gone?

You loved my food and loved to cook.

Why are you gone?

I made sure you had opportunities to get involved in things that interested you.

Why are you gone?

I took care of you when you were sick, tended to every boo-boo.

Why are you gone?

I went to all of your graduations—preschool, elementary, and middle school. You had a couple more to go.

Why are you gone?

I defended and protected you from anything or anyone looking to hurt you. I kept you safe.

Why are you gone?

I got you help when you needed it.

Why are you gone?

You had an amazing talent, a natural, powerful gift you were meant to share with the world.

Why are you gone?

I had just taken you to your piano lesson that last night.

Why are you gone?

On the drive, I talked to you about turning 16, studying for your permit and teaching you how to drive.

Why are you gone?

You were supposed to be at school that day.

Why are you gone?

I could hear you in your room playing video games with friends online, having fun.

Why are you gone?

I could hear you on the phone talking and laughing with your friends, sounding like a normal teenager.

Why are you gone?

I could hear you practicing on your keyboard all the time, sending beautiful music throughout our home.

Why are you gone?

I’d listen in complete awe of you, thinking to myself, “I can’t believe I have a kid that can do this!”.

I was so proud of you.

Why are you gone?

You were smart, funny, talented, athletic, incredibly strong and handsome.

Why are you gone?

You told me your goal for the upcoming year - 2025, was to learn Opus 25 by Chopin.

Why are you gone?

You explained to me there were 12 études, and you would learn one étude each month. That was your goal and I knew you would absolutely accomplish it.

Why are you gone?

I ironed “25” on a hoodie for you, representing what you were going to accomplish in that year.

Why are you gone?

You asked me if I wanted to listen to a piece after you learned it. I always did.

Why are you gone?

You shared YouTube piano videos of music you were working on, or pieces you wanted to learn.

Why are you gone?

You talked to me about the difficult Chopin competitions that you were going to enter one day.

Why are you gone?

You spent so much extra time at the music school practicing on their grand pianos.

Why are you gone?

You had just gotten the upright piano delivered two months before. You were so happy to have it.

Why are you gone?

You composed a Christmas waltz and was composing other pieces.

Why are you gone?

I wanted you and Solomon to learn a beautiful piece that required four hands.

I’ll never get to hear the two of you play it.

Why are you gone?

You wrote yourself a letter to you in the future, asking yourself if you had accomplished

the goals  you had on your list.

Why are you gone?

You were loved by your close friends who were able to confide in you.

Why are you gone?

You were the little brother to all of your siblings, who loved you.

Why are you gone?

Our family was perfectly and uniquely imperfect just the way we were. 

Why are you gone?

You were Solomon’s twin and his best friend. You shared birthdays and a secret language

and special connection that only you two could understand.

Why are you gone?

You were Justina’s real-life dress-up doll when you were a baby. She loved being your big sister,

holding you, carrying you, playing with you. She listened to you.

Why are you gone?

You were Joshua’s roommate your whole life. He made up stories for you as you both

laid in your beds until you fell asleep.

Why are you gone?

You were one of Anthony’s youngest little brothers. He wanted to see all of you grow up.

Why are you gone?

You were supported 100% by your family, and you were 1,000,000,000,000% loved.       

Why are you gone?

You are my beautiful, sweet, smart, witty, sometimes annoying, sometimes messy,

always loud, strong-willed, gifted baby boy—my last baby with your whole life ahead of you.

Why are you gone?

You are irreplaceable.

Why are you gone?

None of us will ever be the same, and we will grieve for you

and miss you forever.

We will never understand and 

we will never have an answer to...

Why are you gone?

​

My sweet, dear Manny,

Why are YOU gone??! 

​

Love, 

Mom