And so, five years has passed since my son died. I'm not waxing poetic this year. I have sobbed. I have spent time with friends. I have been touched by prayers, cards, flowers, candy, hugs, and others sharing memories of Paul.

But when all is said and done, he's still not here. I have no one like him in my life, no one who cares for me in the special way he did. I miss him and I always will.

I remember walking down the hospital hallway with the chaplain and seeing Paul wheeled down the hall intersecting the one we were traveling. Gil was horrified to see the gauze patch on Paul's eye, but I said, "We can deal with a missing eye; at least he's alive."

That's the hope I had. The hope that was dashed a while later when the doctors talked to us. So much worse than a missing eye.

There's another family grieving today. One of Paul's kidney recipients died on the operating table, so this is a grief anniversary for another family out there who had their hopes raised, only to see them dashed.

Life does go on. But it will never be the same. I wonder what Paul would have been like today? I can't know. But I will always miss that sweet, frustrating, kind, helpful, obstinate, laughing, anger-filled young man!

Rest in peace, my son. I love you.