Going slowly through each day of his life, intentionally looking at each photo we have (of the literal millions) and remembering. This day was eight years ago, and I still remember it. The surprise at the vent being out, then off CPAP, the tentative joy and hope and trying, for the first time, to wonder if we had a few more days together, maybe even weeks (I couldn’t, even then, hope for years). Going through each photo has been something to hold tight too, in the vacuum he’s left behind. He was here. He existed. And I love him (and thats why it hurts so much, because he is still, so very loved).
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