1 . In the early hours of March 23, about 12 hours before our treasured 12-year-old son died of a rare form of brain cancer, I climbed into his hospital bed, _________ him in my arms and recited Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky.

My child was no longer _________, but I hoped and believed that he could sense my presence and that my voice would _________ his wildly beating heart.

My son had been _________ with the words of the poem by _________ me reciting it to him almost every night before going to bed. He loved the _________ of the “beamish (神采焕发的) boy” as, with a short sword in hand, the boy takes on a strong man several times his size.

My son was also a passionate _________. But with many surgeries, rounds of radiation and medications _________ most of his time, he could _________ read on his own. Therefore, I ________ to read to him. And it was during the reading that I found that poems could relieve my __________. They offered an anchor to me during unpredictable and painful times. They also helped me prepare for the arrival of the final time.

Then it came — at 12:52 am on March 23, my son’s heart stopped beating forever. Despite my __________, I was still overwhelmed by grief. Then I received a message from my friend. It was Raymond Carver’s Late Fragment: “And what did you want?/ To call myself beloved, / to feel myself beloved on the earth.”

It __________ me a bit, because I was __________ that even in my son’s darkest hours, he was always __________ — and still is. And thanks to poems, I was able to get through the pain and get on with my life.