A piece of me

There is this sense that a piece of me is missing. Not just in the figurative sense, but in the actual physical sense. It's as though I'm missing a limb...and appendage. And I feel the most complete when I sit in the cemetery, at Alex's grave. When I have to leave the cemetery, I'm not only leaving my boy behind, I feel like I'm leaving that missing piece of me again.

I'm beginning to wonder if this is something that mothers have with all their children, but I just never noticed it before because I actually HAVE my other child WITH me. I never had the sense that I was missing a piece of me, because he's right here, living with me. To tell the truth (and I know this may surprise some of you), Sam's never spent a night away from us except for when I was in the hospital delivering Alex. So...I've never had to explore the sensation of missing Sam...I've never really wanted to. I've never had to feel what it feels like to miss a piece of me, if even for a short while.

With Alex, he's not here...he's up on the hill in the cemetery...so this sense of the missing piece is obvious. Maybe that's why I feel SO incomplete now.