My Sweet Boy,

I miss you. I wish I could describe the hole left in my world, in my life, by your absence. One day, we were making plans for my first visit to your new city—what you would show me in Pittsburgh, the places we’d explore, the fun things we’d do. And then you were gone. I was standing here in my life without you.

Sometimes, I am angry. So deeply, unbearably angry that you didn’t take better care of your beautiful soul that made this world more vivid just by existing in it. Angry that you were reckless with something so irreplaceable—your tender heart, your brilliant mind, your ridiculous humor, your handsome face, your fascinating way of seeing the world. You were so much, Tom. Too much to be so gone.

But I know my anger is just another expression of my love for you. Love so big and unending that it fights your death with aching, longing fierceness.

I miss you. I miss you in ways too vast for words. I miss our text conversations that could jump from deep philosophy to absurd jokes in a heartbeat. I miss our FaceTimes and how your expressions could shift from serious to ridiculous in seconds. I miss how you and I deeply understood each other.

I miss walking through New York City together, following wherever your curiosity led us—talking about art, urbanization, graffiti, culture, and seeing the world through your eyes. I miss how you always encouraged me to try something new or look at something differently. I miss how you taught me to see the world in layers, textures, meaning, and movement.

I miss the YouTube links you would send me, pulling me into fascinating rabbit holes I never would have explored on my own. I miss the YouTube videos you would have continued to create—the way you captured the world, your art, the streets of Baltimore and Pittsburgh, the beauty and ugliness of humanity.

I miss helping you with life—figuring out jobs, taxes, ear infections, buying a car. I miss the moments when I still got to be your mom, when I could still protect you, still guide you, even as you carved your own path. I miss your intellect, your silliness, your ability to be both serious and absurd. I miss your hugs and how you loved me back.

Tom, the hole you left is so vast, so deep, that I have to keep filling it—with love, tears, memories, the voices of your friends who are still here, hugs from your sister—anything to soften its edges. But it never quite fills. Instead, it only makes me realize how you are still everywhere, even in your absence. This hole itself is a measure of your immense presence in my life.

Forever, Mom