Another Year Past

Here we are, two years past and it’s still fresh. It still hurts.

I thought that pouring my heart out to you, for you, last year would help. But it was only a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

I talked to your brother about you tonight. Yes, I know he’s only 9 months old. We share a maturity level… that and he’s a good listener. He has started crawling, army style. His legs want to get involved but they’re a bit spastic yet. I’m sure he’ll the hang of it in a week or two.

I am occasionally concerned that he might feel shorted – that I love him less or I love you more or something along those lines. But I don’t. No more than I love your sister more than I love you or your brother.

Speaking of your sister, she’s doing great. We did the 24 month well-baby (really well-toddler) visit, and she got straight As. She’s very much like your mother; a constant talker that wants it all. She can string four and five words together into simple sentences, stringing those sentences together into day-long diatribes about the life of a two year-old. She's got her tongue tied in the middle and loose at both ends.

Your mom talks about you all the time. She points out that you are a constant thread that runs through our lives… never seen but always felt. Always acknowledged.

My thoughts are sort of all over the place; one moment I want to rant and yell and curse at the stars for your loss, and the next I just want to cry.

But neither does anyone any good. So I will keep on keeping on, care for your family, and keep your spirit alive.

Anyway, we’re here and missing you.