Superman

This post isn't about diabetes, just so you know.

I met you in the summer of 2007. I fed you, and you were mine.  Jason says it was like feeding a stray puppy. 

You were a big brother to my boys, and a little brother to my husband.  I loved our twisted "family tree" and how you called the boys "brophews" and they called you Uncle Bubba.  I know you had lots of "moms" and I'm so proud I was one of them.

You were a role model for all the other guards.  They looked up to you, respected and loved you.

And sometimes you were not such a great role model.

You freaked me out when you wore the sunglasses contacts.  I loved seeing your blue eyes.

I loved your deep voice, deeper than it seemed it should be.  And the way you sang just a little tiny bit off key.

And for some reason you loved putting on tiny clothes from the lost and found.

In most crowds, you were the biggest one there.  I think you cried a little bit when Seth passed you up and you became the runt of my litter.

Cancer came back.  We all got scared.  The surgery got it all, but the chemo after was rough.  I hated taking you the couple of times I did.  Hated watching them put that poison in your body. I couldn't even feed you anything that made you feel better. But we all hoped that poison would kill the cancer before the cancer took you from us.  And it did, for a while.

And we had some more fun times.

Then it came back again. We all thought/hoped you would beat it again.  I never gave up on you and held out for a miracle until the very end.  And at the end, we were there. I hope you felt the love as you took your last breath.

How do I heal the hole in my heart?  I will never be the same again.  But I would do it all over again, even knowing I'd lose you.  I could certainly do without this pain, but I wouldn't have wanted to miss the dance of having you in my life.  I'll love you always, and you'll always be my Superman.