On being my son, almost

He was my son, then,
almost.

He was the first son,
of my heart,
of my life,
of my soul.

The first sibling was he, naught.

The first sibling had been given,
as a gift to another family. 

I learned of his life,
long after the gift had been given.

He was offered as a gift,
to my wife.

Being single with no committed, prospect,
this gift had been declined. 

Shortly after our marriage, I learned,
of personal infertility.

Then shortly after that, came the birth,
of the second son.

He would have been our gift,
but Grandpa loved him first.

To accept this gift,
would be to end,
the life of a man, I adored.

So I watched this son, from afar.

Seeking then, every chance,
to continue to bless his life,
I revered him, from afar. 

In his youth, many troubles, he experienced.

Some troubles require the intervention of a judge,
for many years, we visited him, in a secure facility. 

This facility offered him choice and growth.

With this change, he experienced new joy
and deepened his relationships with his siblings.

Many years have passed and think,
I still, of this son.

Even in his death, I see hope and joy.

Our daughter has named her son,
in honor of his memory.

I hope they meet again someday,
and my grandson sees the joy,
I feel in the memory,
of the first son, of my heart.