Vox Hunt: Gone

Show us a photo of something that's gone now.

Babytim002

It's been 17 months since he was killed.  God, I hate Vox Hunts and Qotds that are like this, that make me all weepy, where I can't answer anything other than something about Tim...and yet SOMEHOW I CAN'T HELP MYSELF.  I guess this is proof that I'm not "over it" yet, when I so clearly grab every opportunity to remind myself, and everyone else that my brother was killed in the war.  I am often ashamed when I bring it up, in situations like this, because I am afraid that I am making people uncomfortable, that they are tired of hearing about it again.  And still I am compelled to talk/write about it.  Not a moment goes by when I am not achingly aware that he is gone.  It sounds frivilous to say: every second of the day I think about it, but you know what?  It's true--that's the frightening reality.  It's still so new somehow that I catch myself a half dozen times a day, even almost a year and a half later, cataloguing things away in my head to tell him when I call him on the phone.  "Oh, wow, it's been a while since Tim and I have chatted, I'll call him tonight and tell him a funny story."  Or, "Tim would love this!  I'll call him and harrass him!"  Or, "How come Booboo hasn't drunk dialed me lately?"  It's hard not to feel completely crushed by the weight of it all.  Which is ok.  I really am doing fine, despite my brooding.  I love my brother more than anything (yes, more than anything), and at least I've got that.

Booboo baseball