You were so tiny when the neighbors gave you to me. You looked like a little bird. So I had a habit of calling you Larry-bird, long after you had grown. Now, my little bird, you are gone and I miss you so badly, it hurts sometimes like I don't think I can stand it. I miss you cuddling next to me, the way you could do that in your special way that only you could do. Today, darling-bird, I held your little plushy bed that Daddy called your "hat" close to me, and cried so hard. When you were not sleeping with me, you were sleeping curled in your "hat." You are so missed.
But I take out this picture of you and remember how young and healthy you were then, and I read this poem. I say it like a chant, the way the mountain people worship, chanting hyms.
If you could see me now!
I'm walking streets of gold.
If you could see me now!
I'm walking, strong and bold.
If you could see me now,
You would know
The pain's erased.
If you could see me now,
You would know
I've seen God's face.
You would never want me to leave this place,
If you could see me now!
Rest high on that mountain, little bird. I love you.