I guess it had to happen…

by whatiwastryingtosaywas

Two months have passed.

As I watched your father cry on our patio this morning, through my own tears, I wondered if we’re ever going to feel okay again.

Neither one of us slept well last night. And both of us woke up feeling as though no time had passed at all.

I still feel like I don’t know how to be without you. I still wonder where you are. If you’re okay. And I still know we aren’t. Okay, that is.

We function. We eat. We sleep (most days). We get up. We get dressed. We go to work. We cry. We mourn. We breath. We see our friends. Gods know, we even laugh every now and then. But we don’t live. We won’t plan. We’re stuck. Because moving forward means leaving you behind. You can’t move forward with us and the pain in knowing this is as fresh as it was two months ago today.

I think things like: by now you’d be sitting on your own. You’d be eating solid food. Your laugh would be the one thing I lived for and your smile would make everything alright.

You will forever live in a picture in my head; one where you never cried or told me you hated me. It’s unfair. I wanted to hear those words. I wanted to see you walk, talk, scream in a fit of tantrum. Throw your toys. Smack your father. Throw a ball at your dog. Belly flop into your pool. 

But I can’t picture you older. I can’t even imagine how your face would change. You’re stuck too.

And I can’t picture a tomorrow without you. It feels wrong. And yet, there is no tomorrow with you.

And I don’t know how to find a place for the reality that is.

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