James was 13. He had just had a birthday 11 days before he died. He always had a smile and a contagious laugh. He was so full of life. He had the biggest heart and was always trying to help others. He loved his family and friends. He spent most of his time playing sports, his favorite was baseball. He dearly loved playing baseball. His favorite team was the NY Yankees. I miss hearing him running through the house with his cleats on. I always fussed at him for doing that. They were so dirty. Now I would give anything to have him running through here with his cleats on. I would love to have him bouncing a basketball on my kitchen floor. I would love to just have him back.
He was one of the few people that actually got along with everyone. Although he was smaller than most, he would stick up for those less fortunate. It seemed like he wasn't afraid of anything. Which meant he often did things that would terrify me. I always let him do things that he was interested in even though the mother in me was scared he would get hurt. He had a temper on him at times. But it never lasted long. He was harder on himself than anyone else could be. He despised failure in himself. But he had a great sense of humor and loved making others laugh. He would laugh so hard that the veins in his neck would pop out and he woud turn beat red. I so miss his laughter and his hugs. He didn't care who he was around, he would always kiss and hug me before he left.