I miss Noah. And I want him home.

I miss Noah. 

And I want him home. 

And I don't think it is getting any easier. 

I don't want him running on streets of gold. 

I want him on the streets in front of my house. 

I don't want him to be in his eternal home. 

I want him in my home. 

I don't need him to be my guardian angel in heaven. 

I want to be his guardian parent on earth. 

You know, like how it's supposed to be. 

Job loss, divorce, arguments…those can be overcome and maybe even, in some cases, rectified. 

The loss of Noah will never, ever seem anything but unfair. 

Who deals these cards anyway? Was someone watching when I would play, "I can only imagine" as his lullaby night after night knowing years later that very song would play at his funeral? And how many people can say, when casually listening to the radio, "oh hey, that was played at my son's funeral" and be confronted with bits and pieces from that day. Yay for us for picking popular and comforting songs. But could I go one day and not hear one? When I bought the swimming trunks he wanted was it known somewhere that he would die in those?

All the boy wanted to do was jump off into the lake and swim and play. So did three other kids that day. How many millions of people have done that prior? How many millions have done that afterwards?

And to be electrocuted? Seriously? That's how it had to be? A finality of death associated with murderers. Not four children. 

When will accountability take place? Acknowledgement? 

But, in the end, even if all these questions are answered and closure commences, this fact will forever remain.

I miss Noah

And I want him home. 

Oh and grief? I'm over it..and I want it gone. "Hey, fate. How about a trade."