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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


Shane Michael Galvin was an innocent baby, put in the earth before he even had the chance to make his mark on it. All he had was a name and the whole world ahead of him; and there's not a day that has gone by since I first got that IM from Megan, where I haven't thought about his little head poking through his mom's stomach such a short time ago. How can it go down like that? How can he be robbed of all his chances? How can things change so fast? Didn't we just have his baby shower, were he got peek-a-boo Eeyore and a baby bouncer and a sink to take a bath in and that baby blue oxford shirt?

Why do some people get so many chances, and some people get none?

His mom Marybeth and I have known each other since we were both just babies in our mom's bellies; back when all we had was a name and the world ahead of us. Yesterday she had to sit and look at her son's little white coffin and there's not much I can say here without sounding really, really stupid, so I'll try and keep it brief.

It's hard to not be mad when you get to thinking about everything and it's hard to pray when you know the reason you're praying; and it's hard to think of what she's going through as I sit here at my computer. I don't know what she's feeling, both physically and emotionally, but I do know this--she is the most courageous person I know.

When I read the book The Lovely Bones, I remember what struck me most was the author's description of heaven as the place a person wanted to be more than anything; for the main character Suzie, it was high school, and she spent her time with people like her in Drivers Ed class and in the cafeteria and hanging out in this heaven-sized high school. And there's been a lot of talk about a better place, about heaven, for this little guy, so what is Shane's heaven like?

I'd like to think it's everything it can possibly be; it's the world only better, sunnier, not so cold in December. Maybe up there he's happy and smiling and safe and protected. Maybe he's learning the guitar like me and Casey used to talk about; playing sports and running around and growing up, all things he deserved to do.

And I'd like to think he's up there getting all the missed-chances he couldn't get down here; all the chances he should have gotten from the start.

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I wonder if my writing has even improved?