Missing what isn't there.

One day I was riding in an old beat-up farm-truck with my dad and he said, "My dad would be 107 if he were still alive."

I didn't get it.

Then.

I think.....I get it now.

This week I've been missing my son.  I never saw him.  I never held him--in my arms.  He found a place in my heart from the moment Chrissy took a pregnancy test and it showed positive.  I miss him sometimes.  He would be 3 years old.

There is a piece of my heart that belongs to him and I think it will always belong to him.  I think there will always be a year when I think, "If he were alive he would be (  ) years old."

Instead of leaving the hospital with a baby boy we were given a lab report that shows squiggly lines and confirms that indeed he was a boy.

I don't have the right words to write about this.  I cannot explain how I feel an emptiness this week because I miss what was and then wasn't and will never be.  There is not a grave I can go to and show people where my son is buried.  There aren't even ashes that I got to scatter over the places I love.  If you had a map to my heart you would find a room that is dedicated to him.  It is full of the dreams I immediately had for him.  Even though I was afraid I would never meet him or get to hold him.

I'm thankful for the memory of finding out about him.  I'm thankful for the dreams.  Even though tears drip into my beard and onto the table as I type this.

Happy Valentine's day little guy.  I hope you and your brother or sister are having a great day and I look forward to meeting you both some day.