Boy
I'd trade every birthday I have left to hear his voice say my name one more time.
Boy · 32 cards
Boy Wishes For Dad To Come To Life
Follow a young boy's journey to make his wish of his deceased father coming back to life come true. Join him to discover a unique way to make his dream a reality.
This is the story of a young boy whose biggest wish is for his deceased father to come back to life. He longs for his dad to be able to play with him, read bedtime stories, and be there for all the important moments in his life. As the boy grows older, his wish becomes all the more powerful, yet he still has hope that one day it could come true. Join him on his journey as he discovers a unique way of making his dream a reality.
Boy
If wishing brought people back, my father would already be in the kitchen, complaining about the coffee.
Boy
Every quiet evening, I still half-listen for the front door he used to come through.
Boy
I keep his old jacket close — it doesn't replace him, but it remembers him better than I can.
Boy
Some days the missing is small; today it sits across the table where he used to.
Boy
I wish for one more conversation — even an ordinary one, especially an ordinary one.
Boy
Dad, if you could step back into this kitchen, I wouldn't ask for advice, just your company.
Boy
There's a chair we never moved, in case the wish ever decided to come true.
Boy
I'd give up every certainty to have him uncertain about something with me again.
Boy
If love had the power to summon, he'd already be standing here, hands in his pockets.
Boy
I miss the small things — his keys jingling, his laugh at his own jokes, his footsteps in the hall.
Boy
Dad, I'd trade a year of my life for an afternoon of yours.
Boy
Some wishes don't come true; we carry them anyway, like keepsakes nobody else can see.
Boy
If only the door could open and he could walk in saying just kidding.
Boy
I wish him back not because I can't go on, but because going on is heavier without him.
Boy
Father, the world built rooms after you left, and none of them have your light in them.
Boy
I'd give the universe back a star for every hour of him returned.
Boy
Even one more handshake, one more nod, one more steady look — it would be enough for a long time.
Boy
Dad, I learned how to be a person from watching you be one; I'd love a refresher.
Boy
If grief could trade places with grace, I'd ask grace to bring him back at the door.
Boy
There are questions I've saved for him, in a place no one else can read.
Boy
I wish he could see who I'm becoming — and tell me, in his way, whether I'm getting it right.
Boy
Some part of me still listens for his car in the driveway, just in case.
Boy
If wishes had weight, mine would build him a path back from wherever he is.
Boy
Dad, I'd skip every party for the rest of my life for one quiet hour with you.