Poring over poems, quotes, phrases. Trying to find something that speaks to me for an inscription on the back of Oliver’s headstone.
Fuck this. I can’t believe this is what I’m doing right now. I want to be kissing his cheeks, and changing his diaper, and lamenting about how much laundry I have to do because of his reflux.
Google searches for things like “infant headstone inscriptions” and “infant headstones” are so ridiculously painful, unfair, and miserable.
I miss him. I feel it in my heart. My clenched stomach. I want him back.