I had no idea.

I didn't know how much I could ever miss a person, until Alexis went home and it has begun to settle in that I will not see her every day, will not see her for a while, and will likely never again have her here with me. (And of course I have to hope that I won't, because if she comes to live here again, it means the US Military has messed up her family again.) I've missed people before. I moved around all my life, as I mentioned yesterday. I went to 10 schools before graduating high school--and that's in only 12 years, as I didn't go to kindergarten at all. I went to 5th grade in three different cities, spending only 3 months at one place before moving to a new state. I've lived away from my grandparents, aunts, uncles & cousins most of my life. I've missed my mom and dad, even when I just spent the night at a friend's house. I've missed friends and significant others. Lisa and I were together only about a month before job transfers took us to different cities. But, I could see her most every weekend, and I could call her every day, any time I needed to. And I could tell her I missed her, and hear that she missed me. We hated to be apart, but we understood why we were, and knew it was up to us to decide if we'd be together again.

Alexis doesn't say she misses me--thank God, really, because if she did, I'd be out of my mind and just rocking back and forth in a corner somewhere. When I talked to her tonight she wouldn't say anything, finally said my name when her mommy asked her to, and then her mom said she ran over to my picture and stood there waving at me. Our bedrooms have mirrored closet doors, and she made little mouth prints on them, kissing her reflection. It drove me a little nuts then, but now I won't wipe the kisses off because it's the only way I can remember how tall she was. Quite frankly, she's becoming a little indistinct in my mind, which I'm ashamed to admit. (Lisa says it's happening to her a bit, too, so at least I'm not alone in this.) I recall her, but it's like I can't recall her exact voice, and all my memories are just a little fuzzy around the edges. I know she's changing every day, anyway.

We just learned that a friend of ours--an acquaintance, really, a woman I played soccer with in Texas and quite liked but never really knew away from the team--lost her 10-year-old son last week. He died unexpectedly and, as far as anyone knew, wasn't sick or anything. Losing him would be a devastating blow under any circumstance, but to lose someone so young with no warning is almost incomprehensible to me. At least I know that Alexis is sleeping right now, in her crib, in the room next to her mom's, or maybe even with her mommy, who's probably smelling her hair and cuddling her. I know that I could get on a plane tomorrow and see her. But Andrew's parents have to walk by his room, think of how just 10 days ago he was there, whole and happy and himself. And now he's gone and is never coming back, and if it doesn't even seem real to me, how the hell long will it take to seem real to them?