I used to kiss the soft, young lips of my boy. Now I kiss the flat paper image of his smile.
I used to hug the youthful vibrant body of my boy. Now I hug an 11×16 frame that displays his face.
My tears used to drip onto the supple spotless skin of my boy as I grieved his illness. Now my tears drip on to a hard piece of glass as I grieve his death.
Oh how I miss my boy!