When I was a kid, fortune cookies were kick ass. (I was fairly easy to please.) Seriously, they pointed you in the right direction, gave clarity to a muddled path, and were just, well, fun! Now, it’s all about moral advice for morons: the early bird gets the worm, people in glass houses, yada, yada, yada. If I want moral advice, the last person I’d look to would be an 8 year-old boy writing crude, grammatically incorrect phrases in a sweatshop in Cambodia. But today, my paradigm has shifted radically, thanks to Erik.

My daughter, Michelle, her daughter, Arley, and I were eating lunch in a Japanese restaurant around noon today. We talked about many things, but as usual, our conversation eventually drifted to Erik. Michelle asked me how I was doing and I told her the truth: I was feeling down. I haven’t felt Erik’s presence for what seemed like a long time, and I miss him deeply. I long for another visit, whether in the form of his voice, his physical appearance, one of his pranks, or the smell of his stinky socks. Tears followed the sadness, which followed the longing, which followed the loving.

Before I could fully compose myself, the waitress brought us the check. Three fortune cookies rested on top. I grasped one in my hand and held it to my chest. Then, with my eyes closed as in prayer, I whispered these words: ‘Erik, my darling boy. I miss you so much. I haven’t felt your presence in so long that my heart is beginning to ache. Please bring me a message in this fortune cookie. Send me a message of hope, a message that will soothe my heavy heart.’

Of course, I realized the disappointment I was setting myself up for, but no pain could possibly compare to that which comes from losing a child. Disappointment, like physical pain and the menial struggles of the day pale in comparison to such tragedy. It therefore becomes a risk worth taking, especially if it offers even the smallest chance for solace.

After whispering those words, I opened my eyes and broke open the fortune cookie. Here is a picture of the message it contained. Clearly a kind gesture from a caring soul. Thank you, Erik. I’m holding you to your word! I love you.