There's still a little bit

Today marks six months since Josiah went to his new home.  It seems like yesterday he was here with us and a lifetime ago at the same time.  I wasn't expecting to feel broken today, but I do.  I feel absolutely deflated and defeated and missing that boy that used to be my son.  It came so unexpectedly that it feels like I've gotten the wind knocked out of me.

My sisters are still here with their sweet babies.  I should be basking in the feeling of completeness and wholeness that togetherness should bring.  Maybe its the fact that the last time we were all together Josiah was with us.  Or that Judah is wearing Josiah's three month clothes.  Or that my dad keeps saying Josiah's name accidentally when he's listing off his grandchildren to people.  Or the date.  Or that I'm sleep deprived.  It's probably that I'm letting all of that soak it at once and letting it marinate in my mind until the tears start flowing and I have no power to stop them.  And then comes the guilty feeling of missing him when I should be enjoying the fact that my girls are here with me.

I've decided that I can mentally justify that Josiah has left.  He is with his brother.  He is happy.  He is surrounded by people that love him.  I can spiritually justify it.  I am closer to God because of the lessons He's taught me through loving and losing and loving again.  But....and I know that this sounds really strange... my body still misses his body.  I miss feeling my fingers shampooing his little curls.  I miss struggling to put his little chubby toes into his orange crocs.  I miss feeling the weight of him in my lap as I read to him when his hair tickled my chin.  And I miss kissing that little bridge of his nose that my lips fit so perfectly in.  I just ache to feel those things again, and I don't know what to do about that.

I remember my last interaction with my little man was strapping him into his car seat one last time and kissing that bridge of his nose.  I remember praying for a miracle and expecting God to show up in a tangible way in that moment.  And He did.  Josiah never cried when I closed the car door like he usually did when he had to leave with a caseworker.  

I love that I have those special places on Molly's face that I love to kiss, like next to her eyes because it feels so similar to her daddy's face when I kiss him there, or her chin when she tips her head up to look at the light at the top of the stairs when I take her up for her bath.  I wonder where Sadie's special kissable places on her face will be.  I keep nuzzling her close and trying to teach my lips to learn her face in the same way I knew Josiah's so completely.  

Today I miss him.  Today I will hold my daughters a little tighter.  I will cry.  I will smile and laugh at pictures and videos of my little man.  I will take new pictures of my daughters and their cousins being together.  I will savor how my lips feel when I kiss them.  I will feel broken.  And then I will feel whole again.