In remembrance of a fallen angel

The world forgets, even the family. A child born to not live is a child the world knows not how to remember.

Do you know this baby as a fragile infant, too weak to cry, too weak to move? Do you think this baby as a toddler, and add ages?

He would know his father, he would love his mother.

It was today, two years ago. 730 days of which not one has been lost. Born in the evening, he lasted until the night. His birth and his death are demarcated by a single date.

The day comes. Now the day goes. The silent phone screams of a world which has moved beyond. No grandmothers or aunts or uncles remember this date. A child born to die is a child forgotten. A child who was not.

But not to parents. Father and mothers who can bury but who can never let go. A man and a woman whose hearts are etched with each precious second of memory.

Pough-chan. You were ours but for hours. I held you as you drew your last breath, and all of the strength of a grown man could not save you. I washed your face with my tears. We placed you in the casket with toys and stuffed animals. We filled it with flowers and kisses and sent you on an eternal journey with nothing to guide you but our love.

Tonight, I drink. I drink to remember. I drink to forget. I drink to remember the love, the precious breaths you took. I drink to forget the darkness. The breaths you forgot.

Oh, Pough. My son, my son. That anything could bring you back. That anything could have made you stay.

Soon there will be a sister. A baby who cries. A baby who moves. A baby who lives and grows. The world remembers the living, but parents never forget the past.

Ian Pough. Born September 20, 2008. Died September 21, 2008. A tiny life, but loved by all.

We remember.

It’s an honor to bear witness to your journey. Thank you, and know that you are in my thoughts.


For why do we cry? For why do we tear? The saline washes away nothing, not the sadness or the fear.

Why do children die? Why do parents bury a baby, but to cry?

My hands still hold him. My hands still cradle him. I rock him to sleep a thousand times, and sing lullabies to deaf ears. Breathing but for hours, but our child for years.

The earth-shattering, gut-wrenching hurt and pain. Spears piercing the heart and the soul. Swords in the side.

Now not every second or every minute. Not every day… Not even every week. The pain fades but will never go

But still, my son is my son and forever he will be.

This. His little life touched so many, more than you probably know.

Of course you and your lovely wife will remember your son forever.

So will we.

((((((TokyoPlayer and Mrs. TokyoPlayer)))))

Of course he is. You mourn, among other things, the loss of potential…watching him take his first steps, hit his first baseball, his first blush as he tells you about “this girl.”

Nothing about this is fair. Nothing about this is right. In a perfect world, parents never bury children. Children always bury parents.

Remember him on his birthday, but don’t let his legacy be one of tears. He will always be near, because you and the Missus will remember him, and now you can tell Beta-chan all about her big brother.


;_; We’re here for you TP.

It doesn’t matter if his life was a day or a century - he was and still is your son. There is no grief like that of a parent losing a child. Any time you need to speak of your son we are here to listen.

TokyoPlayer. Hon. I’m here with you. I weep with you. Nothing can make me feel what only a father can feel for his son, but know that I’m here, sharing the same sorrow, touching the same grief; maybe, just maybe, you can allow me to take just a little tiny tear of it.

Tonight I will raise a glass to Ian Pough, his parents and his soon to join us sister.

And he has touched us.

Thanks everyone. Yesterday was hard. I was really disappointed that my mother didn’t call, and when I called and asked if she remembered which day, she had not been thinking of his birthday.

It’s a little selfish, I guess, to expect others to remember dates like this. Especially my family, which really isn’t into these type of things.

Still, it’s nice to have a forum of people who do remember. Of people who were there, at least in spirit, of people who have shared the story. Of people who bear witness to not just the pain, but the journey. Of the love and the joy. Of the privilege of knowing him for a day which will always be a decade for us.

Today, is a new day. A friend is getting married and we’ll join in the celebration of a new start for another new family.

We will toast them, and drink to their happiness. We’ll hope that – like us – they have found their soul mates, and their house a save harbor from the storms of life. That each day they rejoice in their love and feel lucky to have each other.

This is our son’s legacy. That we realized we must stand together, to support each other, and to love each other stronger each day. That when life is unfair, that when there is hurt, that we will face it together, as a husband and a wife.

And while we may have gotten there without Ian, with was Pough-chan’s journey which cemented this commitment. And it is his memory which bonds us so tightly.

raising her glass

{{{{{TokyoPlayer and family}}}}}

::raises another glass::

Hugs and good thoughts for the whole family.


Thank you, Tokyo Player, for allowing us to be a small part of your journey. Your Family will be the legacy of your son.

raises a glass

Thinking of you.

You will always be his father, he will always be your son. And Beta-chan will be the better for the love and strength you have learned. She will share his legacy.

We remember Ian.