I Lost My Son Five Years Ago—But Last Month, A Kid In Angry Birds Pajamas Changed Everything (8 of 11)

It was Arvid, age four, holding the same pants. “These were a gift,” she said. “Someone left a box of clothes at our door. We’d just moved in with Goran. I assumed it was from the neighbors. I never knew where they came from.”

She paused. “I always thought Arvid got quiet because of his father’s death. But… maybe he was remembering something.”

I didn’t know what I expected from that conversation. Closure? Answers?

Instead, I felt something else: peace.

Maybe Matija had found a way to leave a part of himself behind. Maybe Arvid was just a boy who reminded me of my son.

Or maybe the two were connected in some strange, beautiful way I’d never understand.

After that day, things changed.

I invited Arvid and Elma over often. We made pizza, played “Shufflesnooze,” told stories. Goran softened, even joined in.

One evening, Arvid fell asleep on my yellow couch. I covered him with a blanket. As I sat next to him, I realized something.

I wasn’t replacing Matija. No one could.

But I was healing.