by Wanda Mae Shoap
He's been gone since 1989, he had turned seventeen in May, and died that August. My son, my first born of three, I never thought I'd have to live longer than he. I learned to cope through all the years, as I watched his siblings grow and leave home. I see his ways; his funny gestures, his smile and his extraordinary bond within them every day they visit, as I encase my tears in hidden turmoil. I dream of what he might have been; what he might have achieved, of the children he could of had and the scar placed upon my weeping heart. I have to trust that he's standing beside the Father - that loaned him to me, and that with His grace, his face again I will see.
Wanda Mae Shoap, author of Just Another Day, was born in 1949 in Harrisburg, PA. She is a self-taught artist - she loves to paint landscapes, animals, homes, old mills, the ocean, fruit, and more. She has a website, and worked for over seven years at the local cemetery as a secretary.