Some Days

Some days, not as often now, but still, some days...

Her name bubbles in my throat and at my lips.  I want to scream for her even still.

I want to ask the incredibly hard questions.  Oh, where are you, sweetie?  Why couldn't you stay?  Why did this have to happen to you? To the most innocent little baby, so perfect and so broken? To our family forever changed?  To so many beautiful babies and families that I consider my best friends now?  It's so incredibly unfair and unbelievable and hard.

I don't cry as often so it alarms E a bit more now when she sees it.  I try to cry quietly to avoid her questions if I can.  I used to be so open and honest with her with my grief.  I still am, if asked, but I don't want to heavy her small heart yet again.

I search for one more picture that most of the world hasn't seen yet.  I trace every tiny detail with my eyes, trying to find a part of her that I haven't seen before.

I'm just craving more of her, when I've already had all of her.

Most of the time I am rational, grateful, and at peace.  But some days, even still...