"And in his final seconds, as the edges of his vision blurred and the world began to dim, the chaos of grief swelled around him..Louder.. Heavier. He could still hear his mother’s voice, raw and desperate, her screams echoing off the walls of his little playroom like a wailing storm.

His limbs grew limp. His tiny fingers no longer curled. He felt strangely weightless, like a feather drifting on a breeze. And then, he laughed. A pure, innocent laugh that seemed to defy the heaviness in the room. “Look, Mom! I can fly!” he shouted, as he twirled joyfully above his toys, his voice ringing with wonder.

But below him, the scene didn’t change. His mother was still there, crumpled over his small, unmoving body. Her hands clung to him, as if she could squeeze life back into him, her sobs wracking through her as her tears soaked through his favorite shirt. The sound of her cries was growing distant now, like a radio being slowly turned down.

A soft, blinding light poured through the window, filling the room with a white, pearlescent glow. It wasn’t harsh, it was warm, inviting. It called to him, gently.

He turned toward it, knowing, somehow, that it was time. Still, he looked back. With all the love his little heart could hold, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mother’s head, just above her trembling brow.

"I love you."

He didn’t know if she felt it. But deep inside, something told him she would.

And then, with peace in his soul and the echo of her love behind him, he followed the light."