Most days, it fades into the background of my life. I have become desensitised to it. I can look at his photos and not feel the immediate pain of grief. It's like an old friend now, someone I used to know intimately but lost touch with slowly, in a way that gently set me down and on my way. He's always on my mind, I feel his presence there, but I don't mourn how I did then.
But then I'll watch a slideshow of his photos, I'll listen to "his" songs without distraction, I'll spend a quiet moment to poke at the hole inside me... And it blooms into colour again. I see everything I lost when he left, everything I would have, everything I wouldn't. It blinds me. It confuses me. His sisters - who wouldn't be here if he was - they wear his face, his eyes, his nose. They make these features their own, but don't know they were his first.
How do I not see these things everyday? Have I blocked it out? Did I do that intentionally? Baby boy, I promised never to forget you - but how do I separate the joy of you from the agony of your death? Will I someday be a better mother to you - to your memory - or will you fade away from me?