Today is four months without Deacon. It’s somehow a minute and forever both at the same time. In the good moments I know that I’m four months closer to him. But in the (more common) bad moments, I feel time marching me away from him and I can barely stand it. I want to hold him so badly my arms ache to the point I can’t lift them sometimes. I sit and remember what it felt like to brush his hair off his forehead, foolishly trying to train hair that was sprouted from the head of the very definition of stubborn. His wiry, lean body that still somehow managed to melt into all the right places for a snuggle. The incredible color of his perfectly browned skin, that I envied daily.

I was reading a book the other day, and turned the page and there he was. His exact birthday.

In my fb feed there’s an advertisement for some class on Megalodons and I can hear Deacon telling me for the 600th time that Megalodons were real and lived in the Mariana Trench.

A picture falls off the girl’s door and I pick it up to find a message from him.

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He’s all around me and yet too far. Four months. God loved me out loud today with several sweet messages from women reaching out in love. A dear friend brought a new baby boy into the world. A family member had a really good day. It all took the edge off. Another 19th survived.

Love you DeAcon. Form: mom