This is me and Paul, Paul at one month old.

Today I have no recent picture to post of my taller-than-me son and myself. Four years ago today he died.

When I was pregnant I got to hear his heartbeat through my belly and see grainy images of him on a sonogram.

When I died I had my arms around him as best as I could, with my head on his chest. I heard his last heartbeats, as I heard some of his first heartbeats.

Four years down the road, the pain is not as intense. I have "accepted" that I will not see him here again on planet Earth. But it does not mean I don't wish I could. I have an image of him....as I look out our front door, I can see him in my mind, as I saw him in reality so many times, walking home. Coming at me across the church parking lot across the street from our house. Black hoodie on. Hands mashed into jean pockets. Scuffling his big boots on the pavement. Head down, shoulders hunched against the cold wind.

I sometimes look out the front door and wish I could see him walking home.

I miss you, Paul. I wish you were here. I wish you could walk back home.