To Do

Sometimes, little sweetheart, I’m deeply affected by thoughts of things we talked about but were never able to do together. It makes missing you all the more painful.

I wrote something down yesterday, a little note to myself, as I work fitfully on our book. It says: “Told me you would sing me to sleep”.

I remembered you writing that to me in a email, I think. Maybe a text. I think an email. Quite early on. I remember you saying that you had a picnic hamper that you wanted to load up and take out for a day with me somewhere.

We did do things like this, maybe not precisely as imagined, and all of the regret may be informed by the news that your friend Danya is expecting a son later this year. Knowing that you wanted to raise a child with me and that we never got to do that is a kind of ache that I carry with me always.

Missing you in a thousand ways. A thousand thousand. Love you forever.