I remember the first time I heard your symphony playing at 143 bpm and it made my heart skip a beat and float to your composed musical notes.

We were in sync from that moment forward.

Surely, I had heard a symphony before, but there was something indescribable about the rhythm of yours- It was the most beautiful musicality that I had ever heard, and I had a front row seat.

Abruptly, the harps, cellos, percussions, and violins stopped – with baffled looks and sadness strewn on their faces, the orchestra quickly rose and cleared the stage.

Is it over already? Is it any chance that they’ll come back to continue the effortless harmonization that once was? I thought that we had 12 more weeks together to create, compose, and flourish.

You passed on too soon my son, leaving mommy’s symphony playing without cause or passion. My heart will never forget the intricacies of your composure and movements.

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Science says that the heart only consists of valves, ventricles, and arteries; but what else can bridge an invisible rope to another’s sophisticated rhythm and fall straight in line.

It can shatter without breaking; melt, but continue to beat; harden, but still capable of giving love?

It has to be more…

It has to be...