I have a love hate relationship with the memories section of Facebook.

I love looking back at pictures of the kids when they were little. Round faces, dimpled hands, and innocence. I hate that I don’t have more pictures of Tony with the kids, or just his legs made the shot.

Seeing a photo of Tony and I together always catches in my chest. The love and heartbreak of all we lost, come flooding back in an instant.

Hearing his voice or his laugh in an old video brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. My soul misses hearing that infectious laugh in our home.

I hate that when I look at old pictures now, I perform a mental countdown in my brain. I do this small torture to myself and think about how many years we had left together from that moment in time. How blind we were to the ending that was barreling towards us with no warning signs. Wishing I had known, or that I’d had some way to prepare and prevent. Yet all the while, knowing there wasn’t anything I could do.

Maybe I won’t always assign this timeline to our history together. At some point in our lives, his life will be so far in the past it’ll be harder to do the math. At two years, it’s still fresh enough to count back and relive it all.

I could probably stop doing the math but that feels like burying the feelings. Each memory elicits a different emotion. I keep looking because I want to see my little dudes as babies, to see Tony chasing them with water balloons, to hear his laughter again, and look into those brown eyes that adored me.