Dear Leo, I hope you can somehow hear this message. You are my love, my life, my everything. Losing you has been the greatest pain I have ever experienced. I would give up my life, if I could, to bring you back. Your journey had barely begun, while mine is already halfway through, and I have seen enough. On that fateful night of November 30, you came for help and I was not there for you because of my stupid temper session two nights ago. Now you are gone and I am trapped in this guilty feeling. Time will smooth things out, but it won’t change what happened. I love you. Deep down, I love you for the same reason so many others did: you were such a kind soul. The free spirit and prankster in you were wonderful added blessings. You always had those chubby cheeks—they never really disappeared, just transformed as you grew into your teenage face. I still remember how you'd say, "Daddy, my tummy is cold," and I would stroke it. You loved it and would always say, "Daddy, can you do it again? And again? And again." As you got older, I started to expect more from you. I had plans for what I thought my Leo should become. But you resisted. Sometimes, I forced you to do things, and that strained our relationship. For so long, you were my little boy, but as time went on, I heard less from you. You didn't want to go on walks with me anymore. Still, our bond never truly broke. You liked wearing some of my old clothes, and I knew you always wanted to make me proud. I hold so many fond memories from our around-the-world trip in the summer of 2022 and the New Year's trip to Patagonia in 2024. Even on the days we weren't talking, I thought of you—especially when grocery shopping. I'd see something and think, *Leo would love this.* More often than not, I was right. "Would you know my name If I saw you in heaven? Would it be the same If I saw you in heaven?" Dear Leo, please wait for me. Dad