Grace and I are in her living room. I’m following my therapist’s advice and talking about the memories of my children more often.
“Oh my, that’s great!” Grace exclaims after I finish telling her my story.
“It was so funny.” I think about that moment and smile.
My therapist has been helping me to use memories more positively, to appreciate the joys in them, and not allow current happy moments to send me down into a spiral of sadness. It’s easier said than done, but I’m definitely getting better at it.
I hold my two-week-old nephew in my arms. “Hudson was a week younger than you are now, Graham,” I tell him. “Can you believe that?” I kiss him on each cheek.
How I miss holding my own babies.
My youngest, Caden, was only four months old the last time I saw him. He was in that chubby stag
