We lost our boy this week.

Neo—

barely three years old.

There was no warning,

no slow fade into goodbye.

Just the sudden hush

where life used to be.

I watched him be born.

Tiny paws,

a cry like a whisper.

He blinked into the world,

and we called him ours.

His mother still searches.

His father, silent.

His twin brother curls into places

they used to share.

Like maybe if he waits there long enough,

Neo will come back.

But he won’t.

And none of us

know why.

We probably never will.

It’s always hard—

losing them.

But when death arrives

like a thief in daylight,

when there’s no reason,

no mercy,

no time to hold on tighter—

it shatters something

you didn’t know

could break.