I didn't wake you up today. I didn't come back in five minutes later to wake you up again. I didn't remind you to brush your teeth. I didn't ask if you got everything and tell you I'm starting the car. I didn't tell you to make good choices as you headed off to youth. I didn't faintly hear you singing in my ear during worship. I didn't quietly tell you it was time for us to go to choir practice and reluctantly leave you in worship alone. I didn't hear you bravely read the scripture in front of the entire church after months of working hard on your confidence in reading. You didn't come to lunch with Great Makka R and D and tease them and keep them young. You didn't ask to go shoot hoops as soon as we got home. I didn't have to pick up a glass left in Bugs reach. I didn't hear you mindlessly singing while picking your hair in the bathroom. You didn't belly flop onto the couch and beg for a family movie night. You didn't fight bedtime for over an hour due to a mix of trauma and normal teenage defiance. You didn't say "love you too" as you finally headed to bed after forgetting to brush your teeth but diligently taking a bath. You didn't excitedly asks us to watching you run and do a backflip onto your bed to "stretch your bones" before we turned off the light.
Every day. Every moment is different without you.