Yesterday Ada wanted to buy new sunglasses, For when I’m a big sister.
Yesterday we watched one of our neighbors with his almost-two-year-old son walking hand in hand toward us on the beach. Holding the little boy’s other hand was Ada. My breath caught in my chest. Steve hung his head.
Yesterday I looked at pictures of my brother’s second little girl. The one that was born not long after Ben died. She looks like him, like our mother too. To see her as a baby was one thing. To be confronted with the fact that she is growing up – and our son will not – is quite another.
Today I felt disconnected and defensive and a little off. As I write these words, I no longer wonder why.