its a kind of magic

As he stood barefoot in the middle of a gentle late January snow, he could feel his son standing beside him. He knew if he moved  or turned to look his son would fade into the early morning winds that blew soft across his face.

it wasn’t until he felt the warmth of his blood flowing down from his wrist and across the palms of his hands that he realized there was only one way he could ever be relevant again and that was to matter not one little bit to this world, but to join the one person he missed the most in life. He saw that in death, no matter how prematurely, there is a kind of magic and it grants even the most horrific of humans, their last enduring wish. For him it was to walk through the fields of eternity with his most beloved son, a boxer named Beauregard…