5 months without him. I wouldn’t be able to say that out loud. Typing it seems just ridiculous.

I still feel like a bumbling mess. Trying to help my little family through this. I look at clues for one another’s method of coping, even though I don’t understand them. I try to decide what God’s purpose could be in giving signs of warning before, and comfort after, but not bothering to save Deacon. I’m trying to figure out how to act normal enough to make my still here children feel safe, while not pretending everything is ok.

It’s not ok. I just miss Deacon. We miss him. Our life feels unnatural. I’m still shocked. Bewildered. Sad.

We’re relearning our roles. Our family dynamics have been altered and I can see the kids struggling to find grip again. Settle back into their place. Who’s the instigator? Peacekeeper? Fun starter? Rule follower? The part they had before doesn’t always work with such a spirited cog missing. His roles are up for grabs and while we talk about living out the parts of Deacon we loved most in him, I also fear I’m burdening them with my desire desperate need to keep him alive in them somehow.

5 months. I miss my son.