Looking for Echoes

It's probably weird that I hold on to William's things so tightly.  Sometimes I will pick up his Woody or Hulk just because it's something he has touched.  His favorite blanket is still draped over his wheelchair, sitting in my bedroom.  It's odd that while so many of his things bring me comfort, I still can't bring myself to touch the blanket without violent tears.  I remember him wrapped in it the night before he died, snuggled up so close to me.  And removing it from him when he stopped breathing on the side of the road that next morning.  I slept with it for days, maybe weeks.  But now, every time I touch it, I am overcome.

But many of his things bring me joy.  They help me feel like he's not so far in the past.  I love to slip my hands into his Hulk hands and hold the same inside bar that he used to wrap his little fingers around.  I find comfort in that one simple action, feeling like it wasn't all that long ago, he was here and putting his hand in mine.

I know many of my friends are able to look at each day as "one day closer" to the blessed reunion, but that is difficult for me.  At times the days seem soooooo long, like they are stretching on and on.  It's hard for me to look at them as one step closer when I feel so keenly the weight of being another day further from his life here with me.  I feel like he's slipping further and further from my grasp.  The pictures get older and older.  The memories are all the same.  Each new event brings more pictures, more memories, without him.

Maybe there are some things I hold on to too tightly.  But I can't seem to let go.  I’m always looking for those echoes...