It's strange how Karl being gone is so real and so unreal at the same time.

I mean, obviously he's really gone. Everything in my life reminds me of that. In every new thing that Elliot does there's a whisper of Karl's absence. He can't babble a "da" without bringing me to tears over all the words Karl won't be here to hear. With each teetering step he takes, I miss the excitement that should be there on the face of a father who so eagerly awaited catching him.

On all the surfaces of our home, once covered with debris from his daily life, memories in the form of photos, writings, audio, and video recordings pile up, threatening to cascade down in an avalanche of grief. the house itself holds on to him - sometimes I find myself running my hands down the wall and feeling the love he had for our home, our child, and our life.

He can't be gone, because so much of him is here, yet it's undeniable that he's gone, and I miss him more than words can tell...