On Tuesday, Alex would be one year old.
It's been a trying month. The worst day, so far, was Wednesday night when Christian did our taxes. He needed Alex's SSN and the card wasn't in the lock box. I pulled out the green fabric box that contains the few pieces of his short life. All of the cards from family, friends and strangers, the blankets from the hospitals and the tiny clothing he never had a chance to wear are in this box. But no SSN.
I found the file that contains all of the insurance papers. And his death certificate. We found the number there, but it was impossible to read through the tears.
I find myself staring off into space with tears rolling down my face a lot lately. I know that things will get better, but it's hard to get my brain and heart on the same page. Although it would be regressing, I sometimes wish I could feel numb again.
I would give anything to hold him again and hear him cry, something we never heard.
I miss you, Alexandar, so very much.