It has been four years since we last held our baby boy. Four years since we kissed his chubby cheeks, whispered “I love you” into his tiny ear, and watched the world collapse in silence as he took his final breath. Levi was only here for

119 days.

One hundred and nineteen days of monitors, tubes, alarms, and hospital walls. He never came home. He never felt the sunshine on his face outside those sterile halls. But even so — he was here. He was real. And he changed everything.

When Levi was born, we didn’t yet know that his little heart would become both his greatest gift and his greatest battle. He arrived small but fierce — a fighter from the very first breath. The nurses used to say he had “old soul eyes.”

There was something in them — a depth, a knowing — as if he already understood that his time here would be brief, but that his impact would last far beyond it. He was swaddled in soft buffalo blankets, surrounded by machines. Wires crisscrossed his chest like threads of life, yet somehow, his presence made the cold CICU room feel alive.

Doctors called him “the little warrior.” To us, he was simply our son. Each day, we walked into that room not knowing what news awaited us — a tiny step forward, or another terrifying setback. But every moment we had with him, we treated as sacred. We read stories beside his bed. We sang lullabies through tears. We held his hand through every beeping alarm. Levi couldn’t speak, but he taught us everything that words can’t say.

There is a kind of love that fights. And there is another kind — the kind that knows when to let go, even when it’s the hardest thing a heart will ever do. Levi showed us both. Every day, he fought — his little body defying every odd, his spirit refusing to give up.

But when the time came, when his heart could no longer bear the weight of its struggle, he slipped away quietly, as if he knew that love would hold him wherever he went next. We held him as his chest rose and fell for the last time. We told him he could rest now. We told him we loved him. And in that moment, time stopped.

People often ask what it feels like to lose a child. The truth is — it’s not something you “get through.” It’s something you learn to carry. You carry it in silence, in laughter, in noticing small things you never did before.

You carry it when sunlight hits your face and you think, he should be here to feel this too. You carry it in every heartbeat that still echoes his name.

The hospital room felt too quiet after he was gone. The beeping that had once terrified us became a sound we missed. We walked out of that building with empty arms and a heart so shattered it didn’t seem possible to keep breathing. But love doesn’t disappear when life does.

Levi’s love stayed. It stayed in the ache, in the tears, in the way we looked at the world differently. He had changed us — made us braver, softer, more awake to the fragility and beauty of every moment. We began to see him everywhere. In sunlight breaking through clouds. In the softness of a breeze. In buffalo ornaments, which somehow appeared at the most unexpected times — his quiet way of reminding us he was near.

There’s a moment in every grieving parent’s life when you realize you have two choices: You can be swallowed by the darkness, or you can find a way to build something beautiful out of it. For us, Levi’s story became the seed of something greater —

Levi’s Legacy.

It started with one small idea: if we couldn’t hold our son anymore, we could hold others walking through the same storm. No parent should face the unimaginable alone. We reached out — to families sitting beside hospital beds, to mothers praying in waiting rooms, to fathers pretending to be strong while breaking inside. We sent care packages, shared resources, listened to stories, and simply showed up.

Slowly, something extraordinary happened. Love — the love Levi gave us — began to multiply. His short life became a beacon for others. His name became a bridge between grief and hope. Every donation, every care box, every hand we hold through their darkest hour is for him. For the 119 days that changed everything.

We still see him — not in the way we wish we could, but in ways that make the impossible feel just a little less far away. A buffalo ornament appears in a store window the week of his birthday. A heart-shaped cloud drifts across the sky on the anniversary of his passing.

A child in the hospital smiles at us in a way that feels almost familiar. These small things are not coincidences. They are love — finding new ways to speak. Sometimes, when the night is quiet, we feel it — a warmth, a peace, something that says,

I’m still here, Mom. I’m still here, Dad.

Levi never said a word, but he left lessons that will echo for a lifetime. He taught us that time isn’t measured in years, but in love. That even 119 days can hold a lifetime of meaning. That strength isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s the quiet persistence of a tiny heart that keeps beating against impossible odds. He taught us that faith doesn’t always look like answers — sometimes it’s the act of holding on when nothing makes sense. And that love, true love, doesn’t end when a heartbeat does. It transforms. It becomes light. It becomes legacy.

Levi’s Legacy grew beyond what we imagined. Parents, doctors, nurses, and friends united by one truth: no life is too short to make a difference. Through this foundation, Levi’s name continues to save lives. Families receive support they never thought possible. Children fighting for their lives receive comfort and care from people who understand exactly what it means to love through fear. Every story, every thank-you letter, every tear shared across hospital hallways carries a little piece of him. Levi may have only lived for 119 days, but his impact will endure for generations.

Four years have passed, but love does not fade — it deepens. We still talk to him every day. We still whisper his name into the quiet. Each year brings us one step closer — one heartbeat closer — to being toge ther again. He made us braver. He made us gentler. He made us more. There are moments when grief still crashes like a wave, but then we remember the light he left behind. In that light, we find our strength again.

We promised Levi that his life would mean something — that his story would not end in a hospital room. And every day, through Levi’s Legacy, we keep that promise. Every family we reach, every child we honor, every act of compassion we share — it’s all because of him. Our son. Our warrior. Our miracle. Levi’s time here was short, but his purpose was infinite. He came into this world to remind us what love really means — a love that holds, endures, and rebuilds even after it breaks. And though our arms are empty, our hearts are full of him — always.

We love you, Levi. You are our light, our courage, our forever reason. And until we meet again, we’ll keep carrying your legacy forward — one heartbeat, one story, one act of love at a time.