It's been 7 months since my dad died and I still think of him every day. That sounds like something overly dramatic that Scarlet O'Hara type people say, but it's true. I am a little Scarletish though. Anyway, there are usually no tears involved or gnashing of teeth but sadness and a lack of understanding. Not that I need to understand, that's just what I'm feeling.
I usually think of him while I'm rocking my son. I suppose that is one of the only "quiet" times I have during the day.
My son is 13 months and talks alot! Most of it cannot be understood. I'm am only greatful for that when he is mad and is undoubtedly cussing. My favorite baby language things now are when he hears a dog he says "woo, woo" in a deep voice. And when something that was hidden is found he says, "ther ee ees", meaning "there it is".
