I think of him often, daily. Usually my thoughts are of how him and Marcus would have been best buds, how him and Cyrene would be so close in age, how he would have been talking and walking over this last year, how we would have needed a twin over full bunk bed for the boys’ room already instead of just now with new baby boy on the way, how our bench at the kitchen table would have 3 instead of 2 seated there each meal, how our family would be 8 instead of just 7, how I have another son -another child- and it is sometimes hard to know how to include him when I am asked the ages of my children (usually after I am asked which # this is I am expecting and I answer “number 7”).
He is not just a memory, he is my child.
I want the whole world to know he was. That he was here, that his heart was beating, that I held and kissed his softness. That he was -and still is- very important to me… to us. His siblings talk of him. They talk about getting to see him when we all get to Heaven. They talk about how he is in Heaven with “God, Jesus, and Grandma Nancy” (my mom).