I wrote the following in February of 2011 for the About section of my previous blog:
The Boy – The 3-year-old first born.
He made it fun and easy enough that we wanted kids. He scammed us. He’s absolutely obsessed with Toy Story and Cars. He loves Moo (stuffed black-and white cow he won at the fair) and Jessie from Toy Story. He’ll either be paying his way through college on a baseball scholarship or in rehab for a heroin addiction by age 14 as a result of his dad’s “encouragement”.
Moo now sits in our bedroom atop a dresser in a white pail with the number 3 on it. Jax’s number for the Corona Little League T-ball Brewers was 3. It’s a very special number for my wife and I.
His toys are still scattered throughout his bedroom. The day he died, before we left the house so mom could sleep after two nights of work as a registered nurse in a neonatal intensive care unit, my wife told him he had to clean his room. In addition to Toy Story and Cars, Jax took a massive interest in dinosaurs, 100-piece puzzles and Marvel super heroes.
His left-handed baseball glove still rests in our Honda Odyssey below the passenger seat. Jax just finished his first season of t-ball and I couldn’t be more proud of him. He had a sweet lefty swing and was starting to drive the ball with power. With just a few games left in the season, my dad coached him to hit the ball like The Incredible Hulk. The tip worked effectively. Jax wore a grimace to the plate (by now the tee was replaced by coaches pitching) and whipped his hands through the ball quicker and with more force than he’d been doing all season. He was becoming quite the little stud.
I miss him so much.