But, I cry.
I would like to hold my baby again. I would like to see her make those sweet newborn faces. I would like to feel her sleeping weight on my chest; listen to her suckle in her dreams. There is so much that was taken and, though I know that I will be with her again, the human emotion of the bone-aching sadness endures.
I never understood, and ignorantly thought it was more sentiment than reality, when people said they thought every day of a loved one who had passed on. Every day? Really? Well, now I know--and I wish I didn't.
Every single one.