Walton would have been 32 years old tomorrow. I still can't help but think "what if?", wondering what he would be doing were he still walking this earth instead of frozen in earthly time at age 27.
The poet David Whyte wrote a beautiful prayer for his deceased friend. Part of it reminded me of my precious baby boy, as I also wonder, not what if, but what he's actually now doing, learning, feeling. Whyte's words are quoted below.
"...we who imagine you here in some other parallel, and who knew and loved your anxious wish to share with us your vision, feel sure to chance a prayer that you are happy now and still stand with us on this same mountain, in good and knowing company, and that somehow you have been met, and recognized and welcomed home, and that when they greeted you, the first thing out of their otherworldly mouths might have been this, that you had missed one thing and one thing only in your precious sight, and that was the simple knowledge that you were never alone, neither amongst your mortal loved ones, nor your bereft friends, nor the ones who waited on the other side of all your singular belief. And that all, all, was healed and forgiven by that single, clear understanding given to you now."
"Prayer for James Monahan" from The Bell and The Blackbird.