Am I starting to forget?

I've never really grieved before.  Honestly.

Sure, I've had family members die and those have been sad.  But I have watched my mother grieve her parents, watched my father grieve his best friend.  Watched my parents grieve their nephew (I was quite young when he died).  But I didn't have the deep tears myself.  Maybe because most of those who I had lost had lived a long, good life.  More likely because those I lost were not intimately close to me.

So with Ethan's death, it is quite different.  On both accounts.  He didn't get a chance to live much at all.  Never went outside.  Never felt the sun on his skin.  Never...never...never.  And on top of it he is my son, he is one of the four people I was supposed to keep safe.  So I grieve.  I grieve deeply.

My best friends' premature twin babies continue to do well - thank God.  And with every photo I see of them holding their babies in kangaroo care it stirs things up for me.  The other day I was jealous.  Happy for them and their blessings, and devastated for me and my family.  In attempt to help myself feel close to Ethan I looked at his pictures.

It's been 8 months ago now.  He held Josh's finger in a few of them.  That little hand holding his father's strong finger.  I wondered if he ever held my finger?  I can't remember.  I'm starting to forget some of the details of those four days.  It breaks my heart that I can't remember whether or not I ever felt his hand wrap around my finger.  I really can't remember.  Isn't that so sad?  But it's true.


Is this part of grief?  I know it is.  The distance offering moments of peace, yet at what expense?  Will a day come when I struggle to picture my sweet son's face from memory?  I hope not.  Yet possible.