Can You Hear Me?

A/N: My nephew shall remain nameless as well as his killer, so please don't ask for them.
Can You Hear Me?

I can see all the things you could have done. I can see all the things you could have grown up to be. I can see all your birthday parties that you never got to have. I can see all letter to Santa you never got to write.
Does she realize what she did you and us? Did she watch the life fade from your eyes as she killed you? Did she watch you take your last breath? Did she care that she had just murdered a three month child? Does she care now?
I can't hold you in my arms. I can't hear you talk, or even hear your first words. I can't watch you crawl, walk, or run. I can't watch you play in the yard. I can't see you.
I love you. I miss you. I would have been the greatest aunt in the world to you. I visit your grave stone every year. It never seems like enough.
We sat in court that day, listening to all the ways she could have killed you. I listened to the doctors' theories on what had happened. I shed countless tears for you. I looked in that woman's eyes. I saw evil.
You have to be evil to murder a child. You have to be evil to lie and deny that you did. You have to be evil to beat a baby's head against the arm of the couch. You have to be evil to have hurt a baby that way.
You are still a baby, right? I can still hold you in my arms when I see you in heaven. I can still plant kisses on your tiny head. I can still rock you to sleep while humming lullabies. I can still bounce you on my knee, right?
They tell me I should forgive her. That's something we Christians do. I can't forgive her for hurting you. I have prayed about it, like they say I should, but still no progress is made. I won't forgive that evil woman.
Everyone else grows older by the minute, but still you stay three months old. Not a single birthday, letter to Santa, dream, or wish for you. I hope God throws the best birthdays for you. By now, you would have been Two.