Sometime this week we should have been two happy parents preparing a little birthday party. Nothing elaborate, just cupcakes and cookies, and a chance for grandparents to fuss and spoil and spend time.
A chance to celebrate a year of firsts.
A chance for a fun family gathering.
I would have closely watched my Dad with my son, hoping that they knew each other. Trying to fix the images to memory. Hoping there was some strange and wonderful communication between one who was just beginning to understand and one who was losing understanding. Hoping my son would remember.
There would have been hundreds of photos. Little moments captured and treasured.
I grieve for the boy that is missing from this life.
I grieve for the life that we are missing.
George would have been one year old had we travelled to his due date together.