Do I even know you anymore?

Yesterday mainly began the same as every other day before. Either the moment I wake up or shortly after that when I have to be somewhere, I do one thing; check for daily memories. This action has always been a part of my day courtesy of social media; however, lately, it is a lifeline for feeling connected to my son. The difference for that particular day was no new reminders to pop up. The day revolved around the musings of a stay-at-home mom or forgone nuances of life. I hate those days. I find myself in the still moments scrolling through my Google Photos for the nearest inkling of something to fill the void. Nothing fully fills the gap, BUT these are the pieces of my survival for now. Two hours later, while recording a video message for a friend, I verbally shared my disdain for the days with no automatic memory. It was a fact stated from my heart but not dwelled on nor impassioned, just a sentence in the paragraph. 4 minutes ticked by when the notification of a text popped in. It was from someone I would call a friend and a former teacher of my 3 eldest kids. His exact words were, "I thought you might like to see this and his smile." YES!!! I doubt my passion for his kindness could be felt strong enough through the phone. 

That picture is one of the more recent downloads, so it shows every time I click on the camera, every time I scroll for the supply list I snapped a picture of, and it even rotates through the face of my apple watch. But today...as I sit here and gaze at his face, the details in the photo, making sure it was from exactly 2 years ago, I become aware that I do not know him anymore. I may have held his little hand shortly after birth, during hospital stays, scrapped knees, bedtime stories, each triumph, and tears, but I don't know him now. I have no idea what his days are like, how he fills the time, or how time even works for him in Heaven. I don't know who he talks to, hugs or smiles at, and I definitely don't know his voice like he spoke here. I don't remember his appearance, as his body has been restored. I don't know my son anymore. 

Even in my most enormous sorrow, I don't want to bring him back, I wish to be with him, but I couldn't bear to want him to live any second of the pain or struggle that life on earth represents. This line of thinking can't help but know I don't see the man he is anymore, and I long for the day when I see his face, hug his chest, and hold his hand again. 

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