A woman once told me I would mourn all of what I did not experience with you, but not at once.
It will come in waves, she said.
I didn't understand what she meant.
But now I do.
Football and catch in the back yard.
Graduation.
A wedding day.
Baby powder and poopy diapers.
Your first step.
School picture day.
New clothes.
Innocent love.
Skinned knees.
Bike rides in the park.
I mourn the past and future and even the present.
My heart breaks.
I see you.
I feel you, though you're not here.
