Planning your memorial is so hard. Your daddy and I just can’t seem to pull it all together. There aren’t many guests coming, and we know no one is expecting anything of us. But nothing feels quite right. And so many odd little obstacles keep cropping up. Enough money, enough time…and we’re both just dragging our feet over everything. Can’t get the rocket ordered, don’t have time to build it. Can’t get the pictures printed, don’t have the energy to put your scrapbook together. Can’t even really talk it out because it’s too hard to manage.

These weeks, what would have been the last few before you were born, are grueling. Both of us have little fits and spurts of energy that’s almost manic; both of us are expending crazy amounts of energy at work–Daddy, because he has a new and very busy job, and me because when I step into work I step into this beaming, welcoming, witty, charming shell that takes almost all I have to keep up, and that sometimes takes hours of private weeping to recover from.

At home we tend to look at the house, which so often lately is messy and feels out of control. I think we both feel out of control right now. We’re both drinking too much, letting too much stuff (from paperwork to garbage bags) pile up, and everything feels overwhelming.

I think your daddy is feeling it lately too. I don’t think it’s just that he comes home and finds me with tears in my eyes. I think a lot of it is planning this. When we took out your ashes to figure out how much there was, he noticed the little metal disc that came with them. He took it; put it on his keychain and I’ve seen him touching it. His eyes are as sad as mine.

We both miss you, and we miss each other too. We’re still so very close, and we still take care of each other. But it feels like the parts of us that went with you ache. And so often it just feels like neither of us can cope. So we do our best, day by day, giving each other slack and holding each other up, holding on for whatever is coming next.

We miss you, Isaac. We miss you so much.