slipping

The other day I was sorting and organizing family pictures on our computer when I ran across a file of home videos. There were a bunch in there of Gavin. I decided to watch one. It was the first time I've watched one since he died. It was like watching a stranger. How could that be my Gavin? My little boy?

I was really shocked at how sick he looked. I never really understood why others always thought he was on the brink of death, but now I do. He never seemed that yellow to me. His tummy never seemed that big (at least not when we were at home...our hospital trips were a different story). I was surprised by other things, too...how much I had forgotten about him...how much didn't trigger any memories for me. It felt like none of it was real, like it never really happened.

I am starting to forget things about him. How he sounded, how he moved, how he laughed, how he looked at me. Its inevitable...it happens to all of us, even when our children are still here. Can you recall exactly what it was like when your child was a newborn? A 1 year old? etc...

I hate that he is slipping away from me. That he is slipping away from all of us. The other day Evienne asked how to spell his name. It made me sad...had it really been that long since she's seen his name or had to write it down? His name was so perfect...it held so much promise, so much life. We spent so much time and energy trying to find the perfect one...and now its just a memory. It makes me sad that he only got to use it for such a short time.

It hurts so much that our family isn't complete anymore...I want all my children to be lined up together. I want to name them off one by one. But instead there is just a space where he used to be.