I miss you in my dreams,
I search for you futilely and desperately
But I can never find you, my son.

I miss you when the dreams wake me
In cold sweats.
I miss you at the crack of dawn
When you should be snuggling against me,
And search for comfort and my love.

I miss you first thing in the morning.
The house is too quiet
Without what you should have been.
Without your presence,
Without your giggles,
Without your joy.

I miss you when I work,
I work with so many lovely little boys.
And I always wonder
How you would have looked,
And how you would have been.
Would you have been shy or gregariously loud?
Would you have liked Maths?
Would you have loved story books like Emma?
Would you have liked trucks or trains?
Yoghurt or apples or rice?

I miss you when I sit quietly for lunch
Back home.
I imagine you being with me.
I remember you playing under your baby gym
This time last year.
I can almost sense you,
And I can almost see
In the foreshadow of the “will never be.”

I can see you running around the house,
I can see us being whole again,
Naïve in our togetherness,
Naïve in our happiness,
Unaware of the pain that death brings.

I let my imagination run mad,
I can almost feel the joy of having you again
If only thoughts had the power to redeem
To resurrect
To restore.

I miss you now
As much as I have missed you
When you left.
I hope my sorrow
Gets filtered as it lifts up to you
And by the time it reaches you,
It is warm cuddles and kisses and tickles on your belly.

I miss you, little boy.
I miss you, my son.

I wish life would hurry on,
Like an express train,
I wish I would reach my destination soon,
So I no longer have to imagine,
So I can truly have you in my arms,
So I can smell your perfect baby skin
And tickle that little belly of yours.

Hurry by, time, hurry by…
You are the only thing now between my son and I…