"My Michael,"

At the bottom of the letter was a name written in a hand writing that I recognized. I reread it multiple times, my mind tracing back to the one I called mine. Are we really that alike? The pain cleared my mind a little. I had to sit there and stare at the love letters kept secret and hidden away.
I never doubted her love for him. Maybe when they fought. Maybe when he did the unspoken, forever tearing a hole in all our hearts. But now I understand a little bit more.

Michael may be miles away, unseen, but he is forever buried in my mother's heart. Where he belongs. Where he should always be.

"Because you'll always be my Michael...."