Dear son

I saw your face today. Of course, never in the way I’d most hope to.

It’s been a while. Of all the things covid took from the world, it took your precious face from me.

Pictures became masked, adventures became nonexistent, birthdays became solitary.

I have missed every moment from afar.

I’d have missed them anyway, but this year I missed them extra.

There were no pictures. There was little to be shared. A year of masks. A year of half of you. Of missing out on watching you grow this year more than any other.

It’s been 7 years that I’ve missed you, but this year felt particularly hard. I felt less connected, I knew of your adventures more infrequently.

I saw you less.

We see you rarely, a picture when I’m lucky enough to get one.

Of course I appreciate everything I have of you and always will. Seeing you little is far superior to seeing you never. Everything I know, everything I’m told, is the most precious gift. You are everything to me.

You’re not here, but I swear, you are always with us.

I don’t think this is something that will every get easier. The passage of time doesn’t ease this grief. Loss isn’t for the weak. It takes strength to miss you. You have made me stronger, and you are a huge part of the reason that I will always keep fighting, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

I love you. We always will.

I miss you always, but this year I missed you extra.

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