When Joaquin did wake up, I would hold him and he would stared at me. He would study my face and I just loved touching his nose with my nose. I love his eyes. I thought he had my eyes.
I declared it each time I saw him, much to my daughters amusement. A small way, when I pass on, a little bit of me is still visible to the world. My legacy, if you will.
In just a few weeks, I have seen that they are not my eyes. I think they belong to his paternal grandmother. blah
Sorry a little green here.
Joaquin is still beautiful no matter what shape his eyes are. He is still my angel.
It was glorious though that for a few days one of my grandchildren had something that was from me.