While this poem is for my dearest nephew, Timothy Sawyer, born 6 lbs. 5 oz. and 20 inches long, it is also for family members who have walked alongside a grieving parent—who have shed tears for a baby they never cradled in their arms. May the love for that child never be deferred, lost, or forgotten, but cherished and proudly worn as a reminder of the joyous reunion that awaits upon the horizon. May we grieve, may we hope, and may we look forward to the day when sad things come untrue.