And back down.

Today is a bad day.  This week has been a bad week.  I spent a large amount of my lunch crying.  Bawling.  For days I have been moody and not sure why.  Once the tears started I couldn't start them.  Brian asked why I was crying and I gushed "I just miss him so much". 

I didn't even realize I had been thinking about him so much.  I didn't realize how heavy my heart was and how much I longed to hold him. 

The further away it gets the more panic I feel.  I am terrified of losing all memory of him.  Sometimes he seems like such a figment of my imagination with no real tangible proof he ever existed.  I am paranoid that soon I'll be the only one that remembers him at all. 

Even then I don't trust my memory.  I don't remember things I feel like I should, I can't forget things I wish I could.  Things I won't even subject others to know and remember themselves.  I don't keep pictures of him around and now I'm frantic to print them and plaster them everywhere.  I am so afraid of losing everything I have left of him.

He would be nine months a week from tomorrow.  If he followed suit with his brothers he'd be walking with the furniture, eating solid foods, swimming in the pool, and as active and fun and full of mischief as could be.  I wonder what his smile would look like.  What color his eyes would be.  How long would his hair be, and would it still have curls.  I wonder if he'd still be nursing or just on a sippy.  I wonder if he'd be a morning person or a night owl.  I wonder, wonder, wonder.

Accepting that I will never know is easy.  It's just fact.  But wondering ... the what-if's ... I don't know if that ever goes away or will ever change.  Well, it will change.  It will morph to fit the age he's act, the developments he should me reaching.  What would his little voice sound like? Which sports would he play or would he be into something else?  ?? ? ?? ?

All I know is he left entirely too soon and I'll never know him the way I wish I could.