If I had one more day, I would tell you a million times how much I love you.
If I had one more day, I would hold you for the whole 24 hours.
If I had one more day, I would tell you I am sorry. Sorry for all the times I was mad, for all the times I was frustrated and maybe not so nice. I would tell you that you are the most special person in the whole world, and hold you to your promise to never grow too big for me to cuddle.
I would let you play in the rain. I would roll around in mud puddles with you, and smear ketchup all over our faces. I would have a food fight, and leave the mess until the morning so we could watch a Star Wars. I would give you ice cream for breakfast (more than just once), and let you eat cake for lunch – with vegetables for dessert. I would play dress up and Lord of the Rings and have sword fights. I would build bed-sheet forts in the backyard, with the good sheets, and tear them to pieces in an instant if we needed costumes.
If I had one more day, I would try to tell you all the wonderful things about the world, but not about how dark they went when you left it. I would carry you around all day, and not care how heavy you were. I would spend (more) time making silly faces and drawing on the walls.
I would show you all the things, 873 times over if you wanted, and answer every single question with a real answer. We would eat popcorn in bed, and go to the park whenever you wanted.
Because of you, we do those things, your dad and me, with your baby sister. We know the value of an hour, a minute, a second. I wish we never had to learn the value so acutely, but we did. You are there, with us, in her eyes and her giggles and squeals, and the ridiculous way she holds her spoon. You two would have had so much fun driving me crazy. The holes in our hearts will never heal, but are held together by our memories and the love for you that will never, EVER, die.
If only we could have just one more day…just one.