She is growing so fast. It seems every day we let go of something.
She doesn’t fall asleep after one block in the car anymore.
Her favorite T-shirt shows all her belly when she raises up her arms.
She no longer packs up half the house’s worth of stuffed friends every time we leave.
As each moment flutters away and becomes a memory, a little piece of my heart twinges for what is missing.
He’s missing it all.
What I would give to hear his booming voice and loud laugh?
What would I sacrifice to see her sitting in his lap?
She’s never met him. She wasn’t even a twinkle when he passed. But just the same, as time goes by I’m missing him more and realizing that she is too. Even if she doesn’t know it.
She hears a booming laugh all the time. She has a lap to sit in. She gets all the love.
But not his.