I'm a big blog reader. I love blogs.  The truth is I read more blogs than I'd like to admit.  So many people I admire and relate to.  I love diving into the intimate thoughts of other human beings and feel privileged to take even a tiny peek into their lives.  So much of life is a mystery and   somehow reading others' words help me to put the pieces together of the ever-perplexing, ever-beautiful puzzle.    I read this entry from one of the blogs I regularly read who happens to be a pastor in England.  It stirs up so many emotions in me.  Not a day goes by I don't think of Andrew.  I hate the reality of having a son who died.  He's gone and he's never coming back.  And as long as I live on this Earth I can not hug him, smell him, kiss him, hold him...the list is endless.  I often think of where I would be without his presence, his spirit.  I would give anything to have him back.  The memories of the funeral director carrying his frail little dead body out of our house in a moses basket will forever haunt me.  I wanted to grab him.  To take that basket, which held my son and run with it until I could run no more.  I wanted to scream so loud the entire world would hear.  I think I did.  It's all kind of a blur but I've never experienced such pain.  There are really no words.  I have a 1,000 rainbows.  I feel more happiness than I ever thought possible.  I am a blessed woman.  Yet, there is always THE PAIN.  The darkness of the loss.  The cloud that never leaves.  Anyway, here is the blog entry.  I thought it to be eloquent: