Today, Jack would have been five. I spend a lot of time thinking about what he’d be like, who he’d be today, in those times between things I need to do.
He would be talking up a storm (Jack’s speech was delayed), learning to read, playing with cars and rockets and trains and Batman and dinosaurs, playing Frisbee with me on the weekends, riding his bike and scooter and skates like nobody’s business, and showing his little brothers what it’s all about.
He’d torment his big sisters, play in the wading pool in the backyard, jump on the trampoline, and throw water balloons. He’d be in Kung Fu with his big sisters and be great at it. I’d get to help him learn how to do it right and move just so no no shift your weight a little more this way and focus here while you follow through to make it work.
We’d enjoy Sonic slushes and more elaborate Thomas setups in his room. We’d still be going to Saturday morning breakfasts with Grandpa and fishing Sunday mornings at White Rock. I hate fishing, but he loved spending time with me and Grandpa so much I’d do it anyway, as often as we could.
Yesterday, as I was getting to work, I cried for Jack; a song triggered it and, since I don’t cry often enough, I let it out. I drove to the top of the parking garage so no one would see me and just bawled for about 15 minutes, thinking of what I am missing for not having Jack in my life. All the things that should be true, but aren’t.
I eventually pulled myself together and made it inside, but didn’t really talk to anyone all day. My heart wasn’t in it and I didn’t give a damn.
I miss him. I feel guilty for him. I want him back. I’ll never have another Jack.
It’s just not fair.