It's been just over six weeks since you walked out of the house and quietly but firmly closed the door on your life with us forever.
It's been a month since your memorial service.
In some ways it feels like much, much longer, because so much has happened and we've worked so hard in the intervening time. But in others, it's just as fresh as if you left yesterday.
I try very hard not to get into the "what-ifs" and "if onlys" and "I should'ves" - because I understand how futile they are. But I don't always succeed, and in my imagination, that morning goes differently. Or you are found in time. And you're still here with us.
Recent pictures are hard, because I look at Christmas and think, you weren't doing your best, but you were OK. Or OK enough to stay, anyway. And I wonder where the line was.
But I love this photo above. I love the life and the energy and the fun in it.
We scanned it for your slide show. I remember you playing the piano in Dacca. You played all the time when we were younger. I can't even remember the last time I heard you play, actually.
The other night I dreamt that you were still alive, and it was so very real. But then I noticed that I had a completely flat stomach, and that's what tipped me off that it was a dream. Another night, Nick and I were staying over with mom, and I woke up smelling your cologne, as if you'd just passed through the room.
The dreams I get. The smell, that I really don't understand.
You left things extremely well organized - which you always knew - and that's been incredibly helpful. Even so, there's an astounding amount of administrative stuff to deal with.
Nick has been spectacular at dealing with all of the terrible details - and was from minute one. We all knew how amazing he was, and I know it made you feel better knowing we were in good hands. You can't begin to imagine how great he's been.
For so many of these things, it's so helpful that he's a lawyer, but even more so, that he's so incredibly detail-oriented.
I have to say, I think you were right - he might actually be more anal than you. Practically unimaginable, but possibly true.
I am huge now, and so is the boy - much bigger than when you saw us last. When he moves, my whole stomach shifts. It's pretty crazy; you'd get a kick out of it.
We all miss you terribly, and wish you were still with us.