“RE: Shane Michael Ray Kilhefner, A Memorial”

I have about 25 books concerning the death of a child. You know how much I love to read. Your loss is the biggest thing on my mind now & it's what I want to concentrate on so I bought all these books on the subject. I would pass them on to your father but he never read all that much - same as you. Unfortunately, I am passing them on to a friend in TX who lost her oldest son a couple months ago. I wish I didn't know anyone to pass them on to.

I am reading thru them & I still cannot believe that these books apply to me. Over 4 months later, I still cannot accept that you are gone.

I read these books & then realize that these other bereaved parents are talking to me - describing what I am feeling. It just doesn't seem right. It's still a nightmare that never happened.

I miss you so very much, my baby boy. There will never be anyone who can take your place in my heart.

I have looked into adopting - because I want another boy just like you - but I know that there will never be another you. So it probably wouldn't be fair. I could never love another the way I loved you. Anyone else would always be compared to you & they would come up short. And I don't think anyone else could love me like you did.

We visited your grave again last week - planted a gorgeous Star Gazer Lily for you. And those blue "stones" on Nan's headstone - they are from me. I will get a grave marker for you soon. Maybe then I will believe that you are gone forever - probably not, tho'. It's just too much for me to deal with yet.

I want to do something for you - something to honor you - to make sure that no one forgets about you. But I don't know what to do. I want to live the rest of my life for you. If you can, give me some hints on what I can do to make me feel like my life is worthwhile.

I dream about you every now & then - I love that. When I dream of you, you are still alive & happy. It comforts me. Please come to me in my dreams more often.

I love you so much - there are no words to describe the depth of it. Mom