Two Months

It has been two months today since this picture hung on my hospital room door. Two months.

In such a short period of time, the grief has folded into me and become a part of who I am. It does not define me, but it refines me. I miss you. I ache to hold you again.

Aaron reminds me that each day is a day closer to him. Neither of us is in any hurry to die, but it is not as scary anymore. I have no desire to leave behind the children I have here, but I miss him.

I love you baby boy. Two months closer to seeing you again. Until then, I will see you in your brother and sisters and daddy. We talk about you every day.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.