The Afterlife

When I die, I want to experience everything that I have missed and will miss with Julian. I want to snuggle him as a live, squirmy newborn. I want to nurse him and watch him try his first solids. I want to see all versions of his smiles: toothless baby smiles, tiny-toothed toddler smiles, snaggle-toothed smiles, awkward teen smiles, confident young man smiles. I want to hear his laughter and see what his face looks like when he's mad. I want to hold his tiny newborn hand the way I did in July, but this time I want to feel him squeeze my finger back. I want to admire his strong adult hands and marvel at how fast and strong he grew. I want to see him stare in awe at airplanes and big snowplows the way his daddy does. I want to hear him shriek with delight at getting a favorite present on Christmas morning. I want to hear him yell triumphantly when he gets his first/best college acceptance. I want to smell his newborn smell and his toddler smell and his stinky little boy smell. I want to hear him sing.

I don't know what happens after we die, but I would really like this to happen to me.