Keep breathing.

He was every part of every day. There is nothing I can do to bring him back. To have another moment with him. To have the millions of moments we were supposed to have together. I can never hold his hand, never kiss his chest, never feel his soft hair. And tonight I can hardly face that fact. Tonight that thought causes me to fall apart. In every way. 

Usually when something horrific happens, there is SOMETHING that can be done to remedy the situation somewhat. Rally friends to rebuild, study for years for a new career, collect new things to fill a home. But here, there is NOTHING to be done. There is NO great work I can do to bring him back, even in 50 years. Nothing to bring him back physically. HE is ashes. Typing that makes me scream a silent wail. There is no resurrection, no rejoining of him and me physically. No friend or family or Facebook following can change that. 

I love those two little kids so much. I'm going to keep breathing, and going, and experiencing joy for their sakes. In their past stable world, momma remains. So I will remain. But Daddy SHOULD be here. 

Last night Caleb woke up in a start - crying and crying. He said Daddy had been in his dream, but was not here now. That happens to me too, buddy. Me too. I'm so thankful he is being honest.