I looked at pictures of him. Alive. Playing with my sons, tossing them into the pool as they giggled with anticipation. You can practically hear them in the photo image. Our sons. Such a happy day. He was alive.
As I look at the pictures, I physically feel the heaviness. The heaviness in my spirit stretches into my bones. My shoulders feel heavy. My eyelids too.
I realize how much I don’t think about him.
How little I think about him.
Really, truly stop and think about him.
It’s too heavy. All of it. All of me.